


Small Lifeforms

by SillyBlue



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Demon Dean, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mentions of past temporary character death, Morning Sickness, Mpreg, Pregnant Castiel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-02
Updated: 2017-04-24
Packaged: 2018-03-10 06:15:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 45,907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3279818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SillyBlue/pseuds/SillyBlue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean’s death should have been Castiel’s end too. But a tiny, defiant spark of life made sure that he wouldn’t fall apart. And then… Then Dean came back carrying darkness within him that seemed impossible to chase away.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Quite a long time ago I was prompted to write about writing canon compliant pregnant!Cas, set in early season 10. 
> 
> The story is not yet complete, so I might take a while before I can update. I will add tags as soon as I know they will be relevant.
> 
> Working title is from Daughter's _Lifeforms_.

Dean’s room was empty. The sheets on his bed were slightly wrinkled, but not in disarray. Just a minor disturbance easy to miss. Castiel had to look closer to see the traces of blood where it must have seeped through his clothes.

It smelled stale, wrong. Castiel couldn’t breathe in here. He couldn’t stand and look and take the stillness of it all while inside there was nothing but a roaring of noise and pain. He could hear Sam’s sobs cross the empty space, vibrating in the air in shaking bursts. They were small tremors that beat at the nothingness that swirled in this room.

Castiel knew how the air felt when Dean was in it, even when his presence was reduced to nothing but his corpse. He knew it in a way that probably no other being did. But now there was _nothing_.

Castiel couldn’t be in here, suffocating and feeling the wrongness of a world that didn’t hold Dean anymore.

Before Castiel knew it he had cool porcelain under his sweating palms and was vomiting down the sink. Heaving and choking and sobbing.

The world was wrong without Dean in it. Without Dean nothing held him together anymore.

* * *

Grief was much more physical than it used to be, sending sharp jolts of pain and sorrow through his core and every human limb. If he only was just an angel – he would flee from it all. But he couldn’t – the rotten, stolen Grace had spread like poison through him, seeping out of his true form into the body that sheltered him.

It hurt.

It hurt so much that Castiel couldn’t bear the thought to not be beside Dean, to not mourn him like humans would mourn.

But Dean's body had disappeared from the Bunker. Dean was gone.

* * *

It took Castiel a while to understand that his human body wasn’t only rebelling against the stolen Grace. Something was wrong, a small disturbance in the whirlwind of his body breaking down. He had decided not to care, following Sam on his journey to find Dean.

There had been a note for Sam, but nothing for him.

“I won’t let him go,” Sam had assured him, not understanding why Castiel clutched the note to his chest or why it brought a fresh flood of tears to his eyes. There was determination in his voice, cold and unerring. Castiel remembered the lengths Sam was willing to go and the humanity he was ready to sacrifice in order to get Dean back. Or at least to get revenge when everything else failed.

Castiel couldn’t feel that cold burning fire. He felt nothing but pain and being suspended between being too empty and being too full.

He didn’t notice the changes in an already constantly changing body.

“You stay here!” Sam shouted, gritting his teeth as he held on to his shoulder. They had just gotten back from a potential lead on Dean that turned out to be nothing after all. There weren’t even breadcrumbs, as far as Sam could tell.

“Sam, I’m-“ he started but Sam slammed the door on him and Castiel stared at the motel room floor. Outside the impala roared to life, the sound like the wail of a banshee and not the comforting noise that Dean could have coaxed out of the machine.

Sam didn’t return.

A text message appeared on the phone two days later. _“Sorry.”_ Castiel ignored it and texted Dean instead.

“I love you.”

There was no reply and the wrongness in Castiel continued to grow.

* * *

Castiel rented a room with what money he had left. He felt the scratchy fabric under his bare legs, where the robe no longer covered him. A radiator sputtered warm, stale air into the room. Castiel breathed in and out, slowly. In and out.

The air rattled in his chest, but the cough that had felt like the foul Grace was urging him to throw up his lungs, had abated. He was being held together despite his wishes.

Castiel lifted his hands and placed them on the too warm skin of his stomach. Carefully he dragged his palms from one protruding pelvic bone to the other, the stretch of skin between soft. Castiel had paid attention to his body out of necessity. He had lost weight as a human, which he had felt difficult to regain once the stolen Grace had made eating and gaining weight unnecessary. But he knew how his body should look.

Weeks ago Dean’s hands had mapped his body, soft but firm fingers trailing the path he now followed. Dean had kissed and caressed his body with a gentleness that had been surprising. Castiel tried to make his touch as soft, prodding and learning the slight curve of his stomach.

How odd to imagine that within the rotting Grace wrecking his body, a baby has found a fertile soil for its growth.

Castiel huffed a laugh, but when he looked up at the ceiling the hot itch in his eyes blurred his vision.

“Oh no,” he breathed.

* * *

Sam called him, days later, with a potential lead on Dean, but the invitation for Cas to join him was not uttered. Not when Castiel had to interrupt the call to expel the meager contents of his stomach. Despite the almost guaranteed vomiting, he was very thorough about eating now. Feeding his body little doses of nourishment for his child to use and for the rest to be forced out again in waves of nausea. He was no stranger to feeling wretched thanks to his wrong Grace. It was an inconvenience, but it was doable. He wiped his mouth and listened to Sam’s excuses.

“Sam, please,” Castiel sighed and Sam stopped at once. There was a stretch of silence during which Castiel tried to get comfortable on the bed, one hand rubbing his stomach. Dean had been gone for 6 weeks now.

 _“I know you want to help, Cas… But you… You’ve got to take care of yourself_.” Sam’s voice was careful, almost gentle, but Castiel hardly noticed. He was watching the movement of his palm over his stomach. He caressed the skin that Dean should touch. He wondered if Dean would even want to. What his reaction to the truth might be. His fingers were trembling and his throat felt tight, the burn of the need to sob replacing the lingering traces of acid.

“I miss him,” he finally said when he got his voice under control. He wasn’t ashamed of the tears, but he was still glad that Sam didn’t have to see him like this.

 _“Yeah,”_ Sam replied and Cas… Cas couldn’t be silent anymore _._

“I’ve tried calling him and sending him messages, but he doesn’t reply,” he said, massaging the pads of his fingers into the tender flesh of his stomach. Maybe the point of contact would chase away the knot in his stomach, the wrongness that just wouldn’t leave even though now something different had made its nest in the crevices of his body.

_“Yeah that’s… I know. He doesn’t even answer me. Whatever the reason, Dean doesn’t-“_

“Sam, Dean and I are in a relationship,” he interrupted and talked right over the sharp inhale on the other side of the line: “And without him… I thought that I could just breathe out the last of my life in this room. But Sam… I can’t do that.”

 _“Cas I… Wow… I didn’t know,”_ Sam confessed and Castiel shook his head.

“I want to find your brother… But more than that I need help. I can’t… Sam, I don’t want to die.” Sam didn’t say anything for a while and even though Castiel honestly doubted that Sam would deny him help, he still was afraid. Maybe Sam had slipped too far into the darkness that came with the loss of Dean, but Castiel had to hope.

_“Okay, Cas. Can you drive? I have to follow that lead but the Bunker will be open for you. Just get there and I’ll do whatever I can to help you.”_

“Thank you Sam…”

 _“Sure.”_ Sam hung up the phone before Castiel could tell him about the child. He tried not to take offense in the empty ringing that sounded in his ear.

* * *

The Bunker was shrouded in oppressive silence when Castiel pushed the door open. He took in the sight of empty beer bottles, coffee stained mugs and old books. It smelled stale and uninviting. He put his bag on top of the table, disturbing some papers. He picked them up and put them in a neater pile. Unsure what to do, he drummed his fingers on his thankfully not all that rebellious stomach, smoothing the fabric of his shirt down and cupping the barely noticeable swell of his stomach in the hopes of calming his nerves. It felt wrong to be here without Dean or Sam.

Castiel sat down in Sam’s chair and absently looked at the books while waiting for a sign of life from him. He must have spent an hour or two reading what Sam had been researching before his stomach churned unpleasantly. He looked up from the book, eyes falling on the mobile phone to check the time. It was close to midnight. With a sigh he closed the books and went in search of the kitchen. Dean hadn’t showed him much on the rare occasions Castiel had visited. The kitchen hadn’t been part of the tour even though Dean had on some occasions spoken fondly about it.

What Castiel found though was an unpleasant mess. Apparently Sam hadn’t set foot in here for a while and there was food rotting on the shelves and a small pile of dirty dishes sat in the sink. This kitchen was just another sign of Dean’s absence. Castiel tried not to be disheartened and opened the fridge. It was mostly empty, a few bottles of beer the main occupants. Castiel went to grab the milk that stood next to the coffee maker and some cereal he found standing on the table.

Sitting alone in the kitchen, eating while all around him was silent, made him feel terrible.

* * *

The Bunker had a few unoccupied bed rooms, but when Castiel looked into them they felt dark and oppressive, the air dusty. So he chose to stay in the Bunker’s hospital room. There was a bed that was comfortable and sheets that seem to have been changed not that long ago. The room smelled neutral and that was probably better than the lingering scents of the missing Winchesters or the stale air.

He’d been here before, with Sam, not even that long ago. It had felt meaningful. Like he had understood something about himself in those moments. He was lying on the bed, looking up at the ceiling and placed a hand on his stomach. His death would be pointless and not change anything for the better. This child gave him a chance, already generating enough life energy to stop the deterioration of the stolen Grace. He wouldn’t waste this chance even though this was a far from ideal situation.

Castiel pulled the curtain around the bed and tried to sleep, hoping that tomorrow would be better. Hoping that Sam would call. Hoping that Dean would reply to one of his texts.

* * *

Sam did call on the next day. Castiel had just finished cleaning the kitchen and was on the way out to buy groceries when his phone vibrated. He closed the Bunker’s door again and accepted the call.

“Sam?” he asked.

 _“Cas. I picked up a trail. Crowley and Dean were in Beulah, North Dakota.”_ Sam sounded breathless through the phone. But when the words registered he was too preoccupied to ask about it.

“So Dean is with Crowley,” he said, a sick feeling in his stomach building, making his throat feel tight.

 _“Yeah, but, Cas… It’s… That’s not all,”_ he said and Castiel let himself fall back against the Bunker’s metal door. _“Dean’s a demon.”_ Cas hadn’t foreseen the impact those words would have. In the dim and ignored part of his mind he had expected something like this, had even braced himself against it, but hearing it now was like having his Grace sucked out of him. It was the same terrible feeling of reeling in nothingness, without purpose and hold. He felt himself trembling. He needed to compose himself. Dean was alive. Demonic was better than forever gone.

“A demon… But… how?” he managed to ask, feeling small and powerless. He put his free hand on his stomach, but it didn’t provide him with any comfort. Sam sounded as devastated as he did.

 _“I… guess the Mark? It must have messed him up.”_ Castiel shook his head and reached up to wipe the tears from his eyes.

“Okay… What now, Sam? Do you want me to research the Mark or-“

 _“No… Cas I think I might need your help here. Do you think you’re well enough to drive up to North Dakota?”_ Sam’s request surprised him, because before he had seemed so unwilling to have Cas search for Dean by his side. Castiel opened the door to the Bunker and stepped out into the late September air. He wanted to come, but a sudden wave of nausea made him stagger and then pause as he tried to keep the bile done.

 _“Cas?”_ Sam’s voice sounded concerned and Castiel swallowed a couple of times and made his way to the car. Leaning against it he breathed deeply. _“If you can’t make it-“_

“Sam. Can I tell you something?” he asked and there was a pause before Sam told him yes. “Your brother and I-“

_“Are together, I know that, Cas.”_

“Let me finish, Sam,” he pleaded and Sam muttered an apology. Castiel sighed and tried to find a way to best confess his condition, but there was no good way to do it. “I know this might sound improbable, but I’m pregnant.” He anxiously waited for Sam to say something, but nothing came. “I estimate that my pregnancy has lasted close to three months now,” he added because he didn’t know what else to say. Still, there was no reply from Sam. Worried, he checked the phone but the call was still in progress. “Sam?”

 _“You’re not joking,”_ Sam finally said. _“You’re honestly telling me that you’re pregnant.”_

“I wouldn’t joke about this, Sam… I just wanted you to know, because I’m not sure how much my condition affects my powers at the moment. I’m more stable than I was before, so I shouldn’t tire as quickly. And-"

 _“Cas. Cas, stop,”_ Sam said and Castiel shut his mouth. _“I don’t have the time to ask you just how this is possible. I want to know, yes, but we have bigger problems at the moment. Dean’s a demon and I don’t know much damage he will cause. So I have to stop him.”_

“I understand and-“

 _“And it’s best if you stay back. Dean would never forgive me if I let you put yourself and your child in danger. I just can’t do that Cas. It’s not because I doubt you’ll be able to help me. It’s really because I don’t want… Cas, shit. You’re pregnant, you have to be careful,”_ he said and Castiel could hear a car door slam and shortly after that the motor started _. “I’m going keep you updated. I’ll try to catch Dean and bring him back to the Bunker. You can do the research and prepare everything for the demon curing ritual.”_

“I will,” Castiel said after a while, but still got into his car. “Thank you, Sam…”

 _“For what?”_ Castiel smiled, shaking his head.

“For caring,” he told him and heard the gentle sound of Sam huffing a laugh.

_“Of course, Cas… You’re my friend. I know I haven’t been easy on you and I’m sorry… We’ll celebrate your shacking up with Dean and getting knocked up when this has all blown over, okay? Take care, Cas.”_

“You too,” Castiel said, still smiling and the call ended. But the relief soon ended, because the situation had changed. Dean was a demon. The good thing was that he was alive. He had research to do, but first he needed to buy groceries and get some human blood for Dean’s cure.

* * *

Castiel put his effort into preparing the Bunker for Dean’s return. He found that cleaning was a good distraction for when he didn’t get further in his research. The kitchen looked presentable and was well stocked now. Castiel harbored the hope that Dean and Sam wouldn’t send him away again, at least not until he had had his child. The thought that Dean would react negatively had already crossed his mind, but with Dean’s death and disappearance, it had been pushed to the very bottom of his mental list of concerns. His and Dean’s relationship was new, maybe even fragile. There was no telling if Dean would want to accept the task of being a father. Of course, knowing Dean, he would do it, but maybe he’d see it more as a burden, than a joy.

Castiel himself was ambivalent about his child. It had been unwelcome at first, considering the fact that he had been in the process of dying. But now? Maybe he’d decide on what he felt about his child once Dean and Sam were back.

He walked back to the main hall, where Dean and Sam did most of their research, finding an unread message lighting up his mobile phone.

 _“I captured Dean. I’ll see you soon,”_ was all it read, but it was enough to make Castiel’s knees wobble. He sat down heavily in the chair, breathing deeply and evenly to compose himself.

“Those are good news, I hope you are unhurt,” he wrote back as soon as his fingers had stopped trembling. Sam didn’t reply and Castiel hoped it was just because he was driving. He sighed deeply and got back on his feet to prepare the dungeon.

* * *

Seeing Dean again was bizarre. Sam pulled him by the collar of his shirt and Dean… Dean came with a vicious grin, all teeth and barely masked anger and desire for violence. He didn’t look like a demon; Dean was still a being of light, bright and dazzling and powerful. There was no sulfurous stench and no roiling, black smoke. There was power and destruction thrumming under his skin, a burning red bolt of lightning spreading from where the Mark of Cain had been burned into his arm.

Castiel felt that there were tears dropping from his eyes, even as both Sam and Dean passed him without taking notice of him. From the doorway to one of the archive rooms he watched them walk down the corridor and after a while the doors to the dungeon screeched on their hinges.

Dean was home.

It didn’t feel like a victory.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't sit and brood over this for as long as I did with the first chapter because I wanted to be able to give you something to read. 
> 
> I hope it can live up to your expectations.

Castiel wasn’t sure if his morning sickness had returned or if it was nerves that had him bent over the sink in the communal bath rooms.

“Shh, shh,” he whispered to himself, mouth and throat feeling raw, everything feeling raw, but he tried to rub his stomach gently. He was trembling and he had to force his eyes shut because the reflection in the mirror was pathetic. But even with his eyes closed he could still see the flash of Dean’s snarl.

“Shhh,” he said again, the sound drawn out, filling the silence of the room. “It’ll be okay.”

“Cas…?” His head snapped up and he saw Sam staggering into the bathroom. His face was drawn and his eyes looked bruised. He probably hadn’t slept much in the last couple of days and the weight of Dean’s current affliction pressed down on him, making him look smaller than he was. “You okay?”

“I was… I threw up,” he confessed as there was no way that Sam couldn’t smell the acid stench of vomit. “I’m sorry, I will clean it up later.” He tried to fill the silence in ways that didn’t have to address the main problem, because he wasn’t sure he could handle it. The child wasn’t a safe topic either, seeing as its father was currently in chains and trapped in a circle.

“Kid upsetting your stomach?” Sam asked, a forced lightness in his voice Castiel knew so well from both of the Winchesters. He let the tap run and splashed water on his face.

“I don’t know…,” Castiel told him, watching Sam brush his hair out of his face, staring at his reflection like he could get some answers out of it. “I should go make something to eat.” With this Castiel excused himself, but Sam stopped him with a gentle call of his name.

“Dean doesn’t know,” he said and it took Castiel a second to understand what he meant. “I couldn’t tell him. I didn’t want him to… I wouldn’t have been able to hear a bad reaction to that. Dean would never-” Sam stopped himself and shook his head. “I wouldn’t have been able to bear how wrong it would have been to hear him say something bad.” Castiel looked at the younger Winchester leaning heavily on the sink and after a while he nodded.

“I understand. I will tell him when I can. You rest.” Sam didn’t say anything and Castiel left him to whatever form of mourning he needed. The Bunker was silent but something dark had descended on the halls and rooms that made the Grace inside of Castiel pulse in protest.

He made it to his bed before tears overwhelmed him.

* * *

In the end, Castiel couldn’t force himself to stay away. He knew he had his child to protect, but it was impossible for him to not go see Dean. Sam looked up, startled when Castiel stepped into the dungeon. He had been leaning on the table where Cas had carefully put all the instruments for Dean’s cure. He looked haggard, more than when he had brought Dean in. And Dean? Dean was strapped to the chair and there had been a slow drawl of probably stinging words that had now ceased all of a sudden. There was a heavy silence in the room, but Castiel took one step forwards, observing Dean. The blackness of his eyes snapped back to green.

“Baby,” he breathed and Castiel’s stomach tied itself up in knots at hearing the familiar endearment pass Dean’s lips. Even when he had been human, Dean had never used that endearment unless they were closely pressed together and no other ears but Cas’ would hear. Castiel wasn’t sure if he should hope, but Sam certainly pulled in a sharp breath of surprise.

“Dean,” Castiel said and walked closer, right to the very edge of the devil’s trap, fingers itching to touch him, to brush them against Dean’s jaw, to drag them through the surprisingly long hair. He wanted to make sure that he was real, living and breathing. Dean watched him with wide eyes, confusion palpable. For a moment Castiel assumed that Dean could read the sings of his pregnancy.

“You look… broken,” he said at last, leaning back in his chair with a contrite expression. Surprised Castiel looked at his hands. “I can see parts of your true form peeking through but it’s not at all what I expected. I thought you were… light. Bright enough to burn my rotten soul right out of me,” he said and the easy tone of his voice slowly crept back into his speech. “But you look static, like blocks of ice held together by veins of sparkly glue. I’m surprised you’re still up and walking now that you’re almost breaking apart.”

“I’m not breaking apart. The… glue holds,” Castiel answered patiently. Dean’s mouth pulled into a crooked grin, undisturbed and self-assured.

“Why are you here, Cas? Coming to cure me with your angelic touch?”

“I can’t do that,” Castiel replied, narrowing his eyes. “Angels can’t cure demons. We can only end their suffering.” Dean laughed at that, loud and long and furious.

“That’s cute. So self-righteous. Is that why you’re here then? If Sam fails in his quest to bring back that pathetic old me you’ll put an end to what I’ve become?” Castiel frowned.

“I could not,” Castiel answered decidedly. “I will not allow anyone to harm you.” Dean’s grin was more grimace than smile and Castiel knew that he had to steel himself. It would not be easy to bring Dean back to humanity.

“Yeah, because you’re broken,” Dean spat. “You’re a sorry excuse of an angel, always have been. You’re too human and weak now to end me.” Castiel was momentarily stunned, unsure what to say even though he knew his face to not betray the emotions he felt. He knew that as an angel he had failed and Dean had been very frank about Castiel’s shortcomings before, but it still felt like being cut with a blade.

“That’s enough,” Sam decided and spayed holy water into Dean’s face. The demon hissed and growled and cackled.

* * *

Castiel could see the effect the cure had on Dean and he could see the panic within Sam rising.

“He’s not reacting well, Cas. This is hurting him and I mean it’s hurting him badly. What if I-“ Sam stopped himself. He looked worn out and paper thin. Castiel waited for Sam to compose himself before he spoke:

“This is a unique situation...” Sam shook his head. “But so is how Dean turned into a demon. Dean is a human in his human body, corrupted by old magic” Castiel sighed and leant against the edge of the table where Sam’s research was still piled up. “We could talk about the differences of how human souls can be twisted into demons for a long time, but in the end demons have a soul in a state of corruption. The cure treats this corruption.”

“You think it will work?” Sam asked and Castiel almost shied back from the desperate look in his eyes, hoping for any shred of faith that Castiel could provide. Castiel might not have a lot of faith left, not in Heaven at least, but he had faith in Dean and maybe that was all that counted now.

“Yes, Sam,” Castiel promised him gently and put his hand on Sam’s shoulder. Sam wiped his eyes but after a while he stepped closer and wrapped Castiel in a tight hug. He could feel the trembling of Sam’s frame and the shaking breaths he took. Sam felt fragile when he put his hands on his broad back, like he could fall apart if he just squeezed too hard.

“Maybe we can slow down the treatment. We don’t need to rush. It’s possible that the purified blood needs more time to work against the effects of the Mark…” Sam let go of Castiel, patting his cheek before he sat on the table next to Castiel, sighing deeply. Sam stared into the room, unseeing. His skin was pale and the rings under his eyes dark. It unsettled Castiel to see Sam like this.

“There’s nothing in the books. The only thing we have even the remotest idea on how to tackle it is Dean being a demon. There’s no cure for the Mark. No, Cas… We can’t slow down. We’ve got to get Dean back.” Sam checked his watch.

“I want to get Dean back too, but this will take time. His soul is hurt, Sam. It has to heal,” Castiel tried to reason with him but Sam shook his head.

“His soul can heal after we made sure that it’s whole again. The longer Dean stays locked up in the dungeon the worse he’ll get.” Castiel sighed, but nodded. Sam studied his face, looking grim himself, but then he checked his watch again. “I’ve given him too much blood because… He got to me, Cas. I wanted him to shut up.” Sam bent over slightly until he could hide his face in his palms. “God, the things he says…”

“Dean knows how to hurt you… And demons will do anything to make you vulnerable… Don’t take it to heart,” Castiel told him gently, reaching out to rub Sam’s back.

“But he is right. I did bad things to find Dean,” Sam confessed and Castiel studied him, still hunched over and face hidden.

“We’ve all made mistakes in our eagerness to help those we love,” he said, “feeling guilty now won’t help anyone. We have to focus on Dean.” Sam remained silent and Castiel wasn’t sure what was going through his head. The times where he could look into Sam’s troubled soul and understand the emotions but not know what they truly meant were long gone. Now he just saw the younger Winchester at the end of his strength. Castiel stepped away from the table.

“You should go get some sleep. I will keep watch over Dean and administer the next dose,” he promised. Sam didn’t even protest when Castiel gave him a light nudge. Sam staggered to the door, but stopped and cast a look over his shoulder. His eyes were wet but grateful.

“But Cas-“

“I will be fine. As long as Dean doesn’t have the first blade or an angel blade he won’t be able to do any permanent damage.” That didn’t help the look of worry on Sam’s face.

“And your child?” Castiel’s hand twitched with the instinctive urge to press his palm to his stomach, either to protect it or to reassure himself that it was still there. Castiel knew that he should not shy away from telling Dean the truth, but he still worried about how Dean’s current state would distort his reaction.

“I will keep it safe. Please rest for as long as you can,” Castiel said. Sam didn’t seem convinced but after a moment he nodded.

“Two hours Cas… Then I’ll come back to check on you.” Castiel didn’t want to argue with Sam – as long as Sam got any kind of rest Castiel would be pleased. When Sam’s steps were nothing but a faint echo in the distance Castiel mustered all his strength and determination to go and face Dean.

* * *

Castiel was not ashamed to note that his hands were shaking when he pushed the shelves away. The rusty hinges made a screeching sound as they swung away. Castiel could glimpse into the darkness beyond, expecting to be faces with Dean’s black eyed stare. What he found however was Dean with his head lowered, hanging limply in the chair and the handcuffs. Dread shot through Castiel, Sam’s fear of this cure killing Dean at the forefront of his mind. Uncaring of a potential danger he stepped into the devil’s trap to grab Dean’s face. Touching him momentarily stung, the Grace he had left recoiling from the demon’s taint. Castiel forced it down, knowing that his own Grace would have reacted differently. The pinprick pain in his palms abated and Castiel felt his warm, feverish skin. He brushed his thumbs over Dean’s cheekbones. Dean was alive, breathing, his heart beat in his chest. Castiel’s knees almost buckled with relief when he felt the flutter of a pulse. Rationally, he knew that it was unlikely that the Mark of Cain would release its vicious hold over Dean. It had revived him once and it would probably do the same again. Castiel gave Dean a light shake.

“Dean. Dean!” Dean groaned. “Please wake up.” He cracked an eye open.

“Cas?” His voice held nothing of its earlier bite, it sounded lost and dry. A small, fragile thing. It reminded Castiel of the broken, confused sound Dean had made when he had come to raise him from hell the first time.

“Yes, it’s me,” he whispered, trying to keep his own voice steady, and Dean let himself drop forwards. His fingers were digging into the flesh of his palms, still strapped down, but Castiel relished in the feeling of having Dean’s head rest against his chest. He wrapped his arms around him, softly cradling his head. He didn’t want to speak now but he also didn’t feel like he could. His throat felt tight and he was both immeasurably grateful to be able to hold Dean, but also sad to know that the circumstances were so dire. He wasn’t sure if Dean was properly conscious or if he could allow himself to see it as good sign that he let himself be held like this. He breathed in deeply, the familiar scent of Dean in the air, but wrapped up in a cloud of blood and sweat and the bitter taste of dried holy water. In the end he had to break the silence and the illusion of peace.

“How are you feeling, Dean?”

“Like crap, obviously,” Dean groaned and started to pull back. Castiel let him go but didn’t step out of the devil’s trap yet, wanting to be close enough to touch him. “Why are you here, Cas? Did you notice that this cure is pointless? Have you come to finish me off because my coward of a bleeding heart brother doesn’t have the guts to do it?” Dean was grimacing as he said it, even though he probably had tried for sarcastic grin.

“No, Dean… I told you that I won’t harm you.” Dean’s head snapped up and there was frustration on his face.

“Yeah well, this so called cure isn’t exactly a cake walk,” he spat.

“I know,” Castiel said. “But it is necessary to restore you to humanity.”

“No thanks,” he said with a grin, “I like being a demon.” Castiel sighed and stepped back. Out of reach and out of the devil’s trap. Dean’s eyes widened and there was a vulnerable look of panic crossing his face. It was gone almost too soon for Castiel to notice it, but he had seen it and it gave him hope. Castiel walked over to the table where the blood was, but instead of grabbing it he pulled the chair and sat down opposite Dean. Dean watched him suspiciously. He was far more tense than he had been around Sam. With Sam he had been easy going, insults rolling off his tongue like honey. He had enjoyed taunting him to a degree that had cracked Sam’s faith in what he was doing. Castiel had expected the same now and maybe it would still come. Dean knew how to wield other people’s guilt and doubts like a sword. Castiel sighed, rubbed his chin and then folded his hands in front of his stomach. A nervous flutter went through his chest but now wasn’t the time. His child was not something he wanted to bring up when Dean was agitated.

“I know Dean… But I need you to be human. Sam and I both do.” Dean regarded him silently, but the corners of his mouth turned down and his eyes became darker.

“Yes, that’s your problem,” Dean said bitterly. “You always need me for one thing or another. Carrying you out of the fire. Being your punching bag when things don’t go according to your plan.” Castiel flinched. “Cleaning up your messes. Yes. I know. You always need me for some thing or another.”

“You are right. You’ve been made to carry far too much weight and I am sad to know that I added a lot to your suffering,” Castiel told him gently. This was not about his own pain now, this was not about how something within cracked and splintered under Dean’s words. He wasn’t wrong, but Castiel also knew that this was not all their relationship was about.

“Yeah, saying sorry isn’t going to scrub my soul clean, buddy,” Dean said with a mirthless grin that looked more casually vicious again. Maybe Dean was warming up to him, figuring out how to crack him just like he had with Sam. Castiel would have to endure.

“Dean… this isn’t about scrubbing your soul clean… Something terrible happened to you,” Castiel started and Dean rolled his eyes, apparently bored. Castiel lowered his eyebrows and reached out to cover Dean’s hands with his own. Dean gave a start and looked down at their hands. Castiel rubbed Dean’s knuckles and then he squeezed his fingers between Dean’s. “Metatron killed you Dean and then the Mark turned you into a demon. And while this is bad, I am so glad that you’re alive.” Finally Dean relented and opened his fist, letting Castiel hold his hand.

“But you won’t let me stay like this,” Dean observed. Castiel looked him in the eyes, finding them black but the rest of his face calm, severe almost.

“No Dean…” he agreed and Dean closed his eyes. “You did so much for Sam and me. Now it’s our turn to protect you and to make sure that you’re okay.”

“I _am_ okay!” Dean shouted, the sudden movement of Dean lifting his head and the bark of sound in the otherwise silent room startling Castiel. “Fuck it, Cas! This was the first time in forever that I was okay!”

“Were you really okay?” Castiel countered, trying to stay calm. “Because you’re still you.” Dean’s expression darkened and he lowered his head while keeping his black eyes on Castiel. Dean let go of Castiel’s hand and he withdrew it reluctantly. With visible effort Dean let the tension bleed out of his body. He blinked away the darkness and slouched down in his chair, the image of being comfortable. And then a twisted grin pulled at his mouth.

“Hell yeah,” he said and Castiel wrapped his hand around his middle again, but he kept himself upright, looking directly at Dean. This was a challenge and a test and he would not break under whatever Dean wanted to spew at him now. “I was free, man. Sam’s always been a burden on me. Do you get how hard it is to be the brother he wants me to be? One tiny step out of Sam’s big brother Dean comfort zone and I lose. It’s fucking pathetic, man. And then there’s _you_!” Dean laughed, shaking his head and turning his hands in this restraints to hold them palm upwards. “Wow, you’re something else! Do you even understand what you always get me into?” Castiel didn’t say anything and it wasn’t like Dean needed him to. “You’re a mess, Cas! And for someone who used to be an angel you haven’t got a shred of faith in you.”

“Dean-“

“No, Cas. You’re supposed to _trust_ me, you get that? You’re supposed to care enough about me not to run away all the time! But the first chance you get you run and leave me with a thousand burning questions, a whole pile of doubt and usually some new drama that will probably get me killed! And you did it again, this time!” Dean shouted, balling his hands into fists and there was too much uncontrolled rage in Dean for Castiel to believe that he was only trying to get under his skin. “You just couldn’t wait to run back to Heaven, to trust Heaven above me even though you know how fucked up you guys are! And what did happen?! All the angels fall, you get into a mess, an angel goes rogue in Sam’s body and Metatron got powerful enough to kill me. So my death is on you! My blood is on your hands!” Castiel kept his eyes on Dean even though his vision was getting blurred by tears. “Can you blame me trying to get away from you, huh?” Castiel took a deep breath, guilt and pain keeping him frozen in his chair. He felt hot tears dropping from his eyes.

“I don’t blame you...,” Castiel managed to choke out. He closed his eyes and shook his head, trying to breathe through this onslaught of emotions of guilt and shame and hurt. “For these months that you were gone I wondered why you hadn’t left me a note or why you didn’t answer my messages… Even though we were…” He cleared his throat. “I don’t want to chain you down, Dean… What you will do once you’re human again has to be your choice. If you still want me, that’s your choice. But you can only make it if you’re cured,” he said. He didn’t look at Dean when he got out of the chair, he didn’t look at him when he took a syringe into his trembling hands, he didn’t look at him when he pressed it into he already bruised skin of Dean’s forearm. Dean hissed and moaned around the pain of the purified blood coursing through him. Castiel’s fingers brushed Dean’s knuckles. He gave a start when Dean grabbed his hand and finally he looked at Dean. He saw the pained eyes staring up at him, the sheen of sweat on his forehead and the plea in his wounded expression.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered and Castiel pressed a kiss to Dean’s forehead.

* * *

Castiel was lying on his bed in the infirmary ward, staring up at the ceiling unblinkingly. He didn’t even notice Sam come in.

“I’ve given him another dose,” Sam said and Castiel couldn’t bring himself to face Sam. Sam sighed and Castiel heard the sound of him brushing his hair out of his face before the mattress dipped with Sam’s additional weight. “He was quiet, absorbed in his thoughts… He didn’t even resist or say something mean… Did you… Did you tell him?” Castiel closed his eyes and shook his head. “What happened, Cas?”

“All his bottled up resentment came spilling out…,” Cas admitted after a while. Sam hummed in understanding.

“You know that whatever he said, Dean’s long forgiven you?”

“I don’t know that, no,” Castiel answered. Sam didn’t say anything and finally Castiel opened his eyes again. The ceiling was still the same concrete as before. The pain was still just as sharp as before. “He said that his death is my fault. Because I was foolish enough to trust Metatron, and he is right.”

“Dean’s wrong,” Sam told him gently and Castiel could no longer hold back on the sob that’s been building up inside him since he stumbled out of the dungeon. “Cas… Dean’s long forgiven you and there’s no way that he would hold you responsible for this.” Castiel lifted his hands away from his stomach and pressed his palms against his eyes, trying to stop the tears from flowing but it didn’t help. “I know it’s hard but you’ve got to trust Dean now. You’ve got to believe that he doesn’t feel like this. Not really.” Castiel felt Sam’s warm palm on his shoulder and after he tried to breathe around his hiccupping sobs for a minute he lifted away his hands. He breathed in and out deeply and then he turned his head to look at Sam. Sam was smiling at him.

“Maybe I’m experiencing what humans call pregnancy hormones,” Castiel suggested faintly and it took Sam a beat before he understood that Castiel was trying to lighten the situation. He laughed and shook his head.

“Yeah, Cas, maybe,” he agreed and helped Castiel up. “Let’s get you a cup of hot chocolate.” Castiel nodded and let himself be pulled into the kitchen.

When he had the warm cup between his palms, Sam spoke up again: “You know that it’s okay to cry, right? Dean’s hurting and he’s hurting us trying to protect himself.”

“Yes I know…,” Castiel muttered, staring into his cup. “But I wished I was stronger for Dean’s sake…”

“You are strong, Cas… Maybe you don’t feel like it right now but you’re definitely strong. And that’s what Dean needs us to be now.” Castiel nodded and tried to smile at Sam. Both fell into silence afterwards.

Sam was right. Dean had accused him of running away and leaving him alone. He shouldn’t do that, especially not now. He had to be at Dean’s side.

And he had to tell him the truth. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was again difficult, but I hope I've done okay.

The air in the dungeon felt heavy around him, almost smothering. Castiel stood in front of the hidden door with his hand pressed against the metal frame and waited. He listened for any noise coming from the room behind. He could feel Dean; the distinct vibrations of his soul in the atmosphere around Castiel. He took a moment to quietly examine how it had been changed by being demonic, trying to get a reading on how much longer it would take for Dean to be cured. He knew that he was merely stalling, too nervous to go inside, so he listened to the hum of Dean’s soul and tried to draw strength from the fact that even under the layer of twisting, demonic pain, the core of Dean’s soul was unchanged, untouched by the Mark and its curse.

Castiel breathed out slowly, a silent sigh, before he pushed his weight against the door and it swung open, throwing light into the dim room beyond. Dean was there, still chained to the chair and trapped in the circle. He had his head lowered, shoulders shaking minutely.

“I didn’t think you’d come in,” he said, his voice coming out scratchy and hoarse. Castiel wondered if maybe he needed to drink. It didn’t surprise him that Dean knew that he had lingered outside for a long time, but he also felt no shame about it.

“I first needed courage,” Castiel replied honestly, causing Dean to slowly lift his head. He blinked at him, his face contorted in unmasked pain and exhaustion. He was slow to school it into something more neutral.

“Right,” he said mirthlessly. Castiel wondered if he had resigned himself to the fact that Sam and him would not stop the cure. Castiel watched him trying to get comfortable, which seemed to be an impossible task judged by the tugging and shifting and the frustration that he radiated. Castiel walked over to the small sink and filled a glass Sam had left behind with fresh water. He turned back to Dean and stepped up to the Devil’s trap. Dean leaned his head to the side, towards Castiel.

“I don’t know if you drink but I fear you haven’t been asked yet,” Castiel said quietly and slowly brought the cup closer to Dean’s face.

“If it’s not the strong stuff then no,” Dean replied but he still lifted his head for Castiel to press the glass to his lips. Dean huffed when it was empty and cleared his throat. “So! You wanna talk? Another heart to heart before I cross the line and you jam a needle into my arm?”

“I wanna talk, yes,” Castiel told him and sat down in the chair opposite Dean. But under the guarded look of the man before him he faltered. He struggled to find the words to tell him what he needed to tell him. He came up short. Maybe it was too early after all, maybe it would be wise to wait until Dean was cured. There was no guarantee that learning about the child growing in Castiel would have any positive effect upon Dean whatsoever. Maybe it would make it worse. Stalling again, Castiel turned his focus on Dean’s physical appearance. He was still looking ill, with a sheen of sweat on his face. “How is the cure affecting you? Do you feel like there is a positive change?”

“ _Positive_ ,” Dean repeated, his eyebrows quirking up before he shook his head in disbelief. “It hurts, Cas. You push that needle in and it’s like sending holy water through my veins. I can feel it right under my skin, slicing through me on its way to my heart. It hurts physically and it hurts whatever I still have left of my soul.”

“All of your soul is still there,” Castiel reminded him with a frown. Dean rolled his eyes. “So you don’t… feel like your humanity is returning to you?”

“You mean do I no longer want to stab my brother in the gut when he steps into my path?” Dean asked, voice raising and tone becoming more mocking. Castiel noted it as Dean’s agitation rising though he wasn’t entirely sure. “Hell no. I want out of here and if he gets between me and my freedom again I’ll take him out.” Castiel reached out and wrapped his hand around Dean’s wrist, just about where his chains were. Dean’s faint jerking at his bindings stopped and he let his chin drop towards his chest. “Nothing is going to change. I’m a demon and you should just have let me go.”

“I can’t let you go, Dean. You deserve that we’re not going to give up on you now,” he told him, as gently as possible.

“You’re going to be disappointed,” Dean spat, though it came out mumbled because he wouldn’t raise his head. “It’s not gonna work.”

“It will work, Dean…,” he assured him but got no response. He continued holding Dean’s hand. “Do you want to talk about… about this freedom you mentioned?” Dean flinched at that and slowly raised his head to look at Castiel, wariness and doubt in his eyes.

“I don’t know,” Dean said and Castiel was surprised how reluctant and even… embarrassed he seemed to be. Shouldn’t he want to boast about it? Castiel was sure that if Sam were sitting here in his spot, he’d delight in the chance of rubbing it in. Why not with him? Was that flicker of remorse he’d seen the last time a sign of the cure finally working?

“You already told me that freedom meant being away from Sam and me…,” he prompted, trying to force down the pain that came with remembering their previous conversation. “What did you do with this freedom, Dean?” Dean still looked skeptical as if he weighed whether speaking about it was worth it.

“I was having fun,” he supplied eventually, though it was still cautious. “I took the car, drove. String of seedy bars, strip club, alcohol, pool, karaoke, bar fights… Women.” Castiel raised his eyebrows and Dean lifted his shoulders slightly before he continued. “Weeks of an alcohol induced haze with no responsibilities and no worries! Just Crowley nagging at me from time to time to get a move on. But I didn’t want to. I wanted to dance to my own music.” His voice had become louder while speaking, and surer. Like a well-rehearsed speech. He had regained some semblance of comfort now though he was slightly straining against the hand Castiel had put on him, squirming. He didn’t exactly pull away though.

“So you left to just do… the things you’ve done before? The things you tended to do when you were human too?”

“Well, I killed some demons too and that one poor fucker who sold his soul because Sam’s an idiot when he gets desperate,” Dean replied flatly. This time he didn’t flinch when Castiel lifted his hand away to cross his arms over his chest.

“And that is your idea of freedom? If I let you escape you’d return to that? Constant inebriation, killing demons, and sex?” Castiel asked, not sure where the irritation clawing at him was coming from, but it was here and he had a hard time not letting it take him over. “To return to your old-“

“Well it was easy, okay?!” Dean barked and that made Castiel snap his mouth shut. “You weren’t there! Once I could think straight I thought you were dead for fuck’s sake!” Dean pulled at the chains, making them groan under his strength. “I mean come on man! I was dead and you weren’t there! You know how confusing it was or how it hurt?” He took a deep breath, looking to the side. Castiel saw him clench his jaw and lick his lip. Eventually he turned his face back to Castiel. “The only one who was around to provide answers was Crowley. So I left.” Castiel’s mind was momentarily blank. Instead of trying to come up with a reaction he watched Dean for some sort of clue how to react. Dean was uncomfortable and upset and his eyes were pitch black when he met Castiel’s again. Maybe there was something on Castiel’s face – yes, he could feel the burn of tears in his eyes – because he continued with a softer tone: “You don’t have to think when you’re too drunk to tell day and night apart. You don’t have to rationalize the violence in you and you don’t have to think about the absence of guilt.”

“Dean…” Dean resolutely turned his head away, so Castiel sat in his chair in silence, slowly lowering his hands to rest them against his stomach again. He relished in the small comfort of the warmth he felt beneath his palms.

“I’m sorry that I wasn’t there. I am sorry that going with Crowley was the only option you saw even though he wasn’t the only who would have been there for you,” Castiel spoke up after minutes of silence. Dean’s agitation felt like the air just after a storm.

“Sounds familiar, huh,” Dean said and looked at him, something pulling faintly at the corner of his eye. Castiel huffed and smiled at him.

“Painfully so,” Castiel replied gently. Dean turned his head towards the ceiling, sighing deeply. “When I could leave Heaven to return to your side, you were already gone… I tried to find you but I was dying… You didn’t return my calls or answer to my texts even after I knew that somehow, miraculously, you were alive… So I thought...” Castiel shrugged his shoulders. “What if I just lay down and waited to die?”

“Doesn’t sound like you,” Dean offered and Castiel shook his head. “You always go on until you no longer can.”

“And you think I could go on without you?” he asked, keeping his face open and honest. “Or that I wanted to?”

“So you’re saying I’m now responsible for your life? That if I walk out of here, still the same demon as before, you’re going to drive a blade through your chest?” Dean asked, his eyes narrowed. “Because, Cas, you can’t do this to me.”

“No.” Dean shook his head, clearly not following. “The stolen Grace was killing me and I simply didn’t have the strength to try to fight it because the one I love was dead.” Dean didn’t say anything to that though there was no negative reaction either. “But now the Grace has stabilized and will most likely stay that way for the next few months. I don’t think I will die and I feel I have a bit strength left in me to face what’s coming.”

“So if I break out and leave, you’re not going to want to die,” Dean observed.

“I don’t like the idea of you breaking out,” Castiel chastised, slightly worried about the continued unwillingness of Dean to give in to the cure.

“Tough,” Dean said with a snort.

“But no”, Castiel continued, ignoring Dean’s interjection. “I will not be able to chase after you either. It would be too risky in my state.” Dean looked like he wanted to comment to that but he kept his mouth shut. Instead his eyes flicked to black and he quietly studied Castiel. This went on for a few minutes until Dean’s head snapped up when they heard footsteps in the corridor. Before long Sam was rasping his knuckles against the shelf. Instantly Dean’s whole demeanor got more hostile.

“Hey, uh, sorry to interrupt but I just wanted to let you know that I made dinner,” Sam said, carefully not looking at Dean too closely. “And it’s time for the next injection.”

“Nothing’s gonna change, Sammy. This is me now, better get used to it,” Dean said, his tone dark.

“Yeah, well, we’ll see about that,” Sam replied tensely. He nodded at Castiel, then he turned around and left again. The tension ebbed out of Dean instantly and Castiel wondered just why he resisted Sam more than he did him.

“Should I give you the dose?” Castiel offered and Dean lifted an eyebrow.

“I can’t stop you, can I?” he griped, but there wasn’t any real bite behind it, so Castiel got up from the chair to prepare another syringe with blood. Dean hissed through clenched teeth and he stiffened instantly. Castiel wrapped his arms around him again, letting Dean’s chest rest against him.

“That glue that’s holding you together,” Dean wheezed, when the trembling had stopped. He was even paler than before and his eyes were glassy and feverish looking. “What is it?” Castiel hesitated and Dean pressed his forehead against Castiel’s collarbone before he pulled himself backwards against the back of the chair. “What means to an end is it this time? Angelic, demonic?” The accusation in his tone made Castiel step back, shoulders hunched defensively. But after a while he forced himself to relax.

“It’s no means to an end.”

“Well what is it?” Dean repeated and Castiel fought the urge to run away. Was this the right moment? He didn’t know. Nothing about this was comfortable and nothing was ideal.

He slowly lifted his hands, hesitating before he brought them to his stomach. A defense, a support or demonstration, Castiel couldn’t tell what urged him to do it.

“A child.”

Dean reacted with a narrow-eyed silence. He didn’t look surprised, neither did he look happy or any angrier than Dean tended to look in uncomfortable situations. Uncertainty put its iron grip around Castiel’s throat, making it harder to breathe and think. He let his hands drop, feeling that it might give Dean the wrong impression or look too awkward. The swell of his stomach was barely noticeable after all and probably didn’t do anything to convince Dean that he was telling the truth. If, in fact, Dean doubted that at all.

“Uhm. I mean I’m having a-“

“I got what you meant,” Dean interrupted. Castiel lifted his hands, pressing the fingertips to his mouth, before he slowly lowered them again and he sat down in the chair opposite Dean again. Dean watched everything with the same expression. After a while his face changed and he laughed. It was a mirthless, hollow sound, gone almost as soon as it had come, replaced by a dark grin. Dean shook his head. “Priceless.”

“I don’t understand…?” Castiel said, though he straightened, knowing that he had to face this now and he wouldn’t cower. “Something’s on your mind to make you react that way. What is it?”

“Oh, I don’t know?” Dean started. “Maybe that I would have liked to know that this could be happening!”

“As did I,” Castiel told him and that made Dean falter. “An angel carrying a child while in a vessel is unprecedented. I assume it is a self-defense mechanism. Without the child I would be dead.”

“Just great,” Dean stated.

“Your sarcasm isn’t exactly appreciated.” Castiel informed him and Dean frowned. “You’re displeased…,” he observed instead of complaining, not sure why he was disappointed. He had known from the start that he couldn’t expect the best of reactions from Dean, not now. Dean looked away, glaring at the wall. “Do you see this as another burden placed upon you by me?” Castiel asked with a heavy heart.

“Yes and no,” Dean said and slowly closed his eyes. Castiel lowered his head, not able to keep frustration and sadness at bay. It hurt. Dean wasn’t being cruel but it hurt. He barely saw the faint movement of Dean’s hand. When he let his eye focus on his hand he saw that he was moving his middle and pointer finger towards his palm, beckoning him to come closer. Castiel bit his lips, feeling like bursting apart at the seams, and tried to fold in on himself. After a second he lifted himself out of the chair and stepped between Dean’s spread legs. Dean’s green eyes were looking at him calmly and Castiel gingerly placed his hands on Dean’s shoulders. The point of contact still stung a bit, but now it was a welcome feeling and Castiel wrapped his arms around his neck and rested his forehead against his shoulder.

Dean let him hang on to him without a word.

* * *

Sam was scraping his fork over a plate of food when Castiel came into the room. He instantly looked up, a look of worry on his face.

“How did it go?” he asked once Castiel was sitting at the table.

“I’m not sure. There was less yelling this time,” he replied and Sam sighed – whether it was in relief or frustration Castiel couldn’t tell. He was looking down at the plate, stacked high with vegetables and pasta. His stomach reacted unpleasantly but he felt empty, tired. He should eat. “I told him.” That got Sam’s attention at once and he wiped his hair out of his face, leaning closer to Castiel.

“About the baby?” Castiel nodded. “What did he say?”

“Not much. Maybe I shouldn’t have told him yet…,” Castiel confessed his uncertainty. “A part of me must have foolishly believed that it would change something for the better.”

“Maybe it will,” Sam suggested with an encouraging smile.

“I don’t know… He might think it’s just another way of caging him in and holding him back.”

“No… No, Cas.” Sam shook his head. “Don’t get such a thing into your head now. You said he didn’t have much of a reaction.” He shrugged. “Maybe he just needs time. I didn’t understand it either and I needed to wrap my head around it first.”

“Did you?” Castiel asked and Sam lifted an eyebrow. “Wrap your head around it I mean.”

“That I’m going to be an uncle? To be honest, worrying about Dean has taken up the majority of my mind. So far I know that you’re pregnant but I’ll probably only really get that you’re having my little nephew or niece, when you’re starting to show. And after I’ve done a ton of research about how this is even possible.” He smiled pleasantly and Castiel dared to smile at him. Sam stabbed his fork into his salad. “And what about you? What are your thoughts on your baby?”

“Oh…” Castiel was surprised by the question. “I think it’s the same for me… I haven’t really thought about it yet.”

“But you’re okay with being a parent?”

“I’m okay with being pregnant. And giving birth I suppose,” he said and Sam made an effort to conceal a grimace. “But I’m unsure about what the child will be like or how good I’ll be at loving it.”

“Well,” Sam started, but there was a tense moment of suspense. Castiel felt like Sam was debating whether he wanted to go on. In the end a soft and surprisingly shy smile showed up on Sam’s face. “In the end it is Dean’s child,” he said as if that was the answer to all of Castiel’s worries. And in a way it was. The simple observation held promise and hope in it.

“Yes,” Castiel replied eventually and looked down at his stomach. “You’re right.”

* * *

Castiel felt a buzz in the air. The low hum made him open his eyes to the stillness of the infirmary. The nightlight was humming and throwing a faint blue glow into the room that Castiel could see through the curtains he had pulled around his bed. He couldn’t have slept more than an hour. Unsure what had caused him to wake and feeling a small measure of discomfort he couldn’t go back to sleep though. He touched his palm to his stomach, rubbing the skin there. But that wasn’t it. He looked towards the curtain again, trying to make out the almost familiar shapes of the room beyond. The cabinets, the tables and the chair sitting in the middle of the room. Nothing out of the ordinary.

A shape moved past the curtain. Castiel sat up in bed at once, swiftly lifting the angel blade which he had put next to his pillow because the low hum of Grace had comforted him. He was glad of that now. He glared into the dim light, tension rising as the seconds ticked by. Nothing moved and Castiel tried to get a reading on the room but this was the Winchester’s home. Their imprints were everywhere mixed with the previous occupants of the room. There was nothing new. Nothing foreign had slipped through the wards and heavy doors. He knew that he hadn’t been dreaming though and finally the curtains around him fluttered.

“Who’s there?” Castiel called, but was only met with silence. He reached out slowly until he could grab the curtain. His heart was beating fast and sweat was collecting on his brow. He rarely got this nervous before a potential fight, but he felt unsettled and caught unware.

He yanked the curtain to the side and was startled to find a familiar shape in front of him, backlit by the blue glow of the light.

“Dean?” he asked and Dean slowly lifted his arms, signaling that he meant no harm. Castiel didn’t lower the angel blade as he stared at him. Dean let his arms drop to his side – the motion startling Castiel – and shrugged, quirking up his brow. “How are you here?” He looked him up and down, a tentative hope blooming in his chest. “Did Sam finish the cure?”

“No,” Dean said, his voice echoing in the room. Castiel narrowed his eyes, trying to see past the skin. There were still tendrils of darkness forming dark bars around his soul. Dean wasn’t cured; he was still a demon. Castiel tried not to let his disappointment show.

“The demon traps didn’t hold you anymore because it reduced the demonic in you,” he observed eventually, “that was thoughtless of Sam and me not to consider.”

“Nobody’s perfect,” Dean told him good-naturedly, but then he lowered his eyes, looking at the blade that was pointed towards him. His expression sobered. “I had hoped that you would be asleep, babe.”

“I _was_ asleep. Whatever you wanted to do, you had the chance,” Castiel observed and Dean clicked his tongue and raised his hands in admission. “What do you want, Dean?”

“I just wanted to touch you and… it,” Dean confessed and it sounded so genuine and shy that Castiel lowered the blade in surprise. Dean saw it as an invitation and he wrapped his arms around Castiel. He didn’t squeeze to hard and even though Castiel’s breathing stopped in anticipation of something, Dean only pressed a kiss into his hair. He let Castiel go again, wiping his thumbs over Castiel’s cheeks.

“Dean… Don’t…,” Castiel whispered, pleading with him. But Dean shook his head and pressed Castiel back into the bed before he lifted his hand to touch Castiel’s stomach.

“I’m sorry about this kiddo,” he muttered. “I’m not the kind of man that Cas thinks I am.”

“But you are. You are exactly the man I-“ A force pushed down on Castiel and it wasn’t Dean’s hands. His stolen Grace vibrated in protest against the demonic power keeping him in place. Dean had stepped away from the bed. “I expect nothing. You don’t need to do anything. Please just let us finish the cure,” Castiel begged. Dean lifted his arms and shrugged.

“There will always be something. Some ideal Dean I won’t be able to live up to, some guilt eating at me” Dean answered bitterly and shook his head. He lifted his right arm, hands balled into a fist. “And I will kill and murder and don’t need the conscience for it to destroy me.” Castiel could see how something about his forced calm expression cracked, but he quickly hid it by turning away. “And you think me capable of being a father? Ask Sam, he’ll tell you how I messed that up last time. I endanger people, especially those close to me. So, no thanks.” And with that Dean pulled the curtain close and only once the door to the infirmary slammed shut, Castiel was free to move again.

Just a second.

He allowed himself a second to just lie there and gasp, trying to breathe again, but then he was up on his feet and dressed. Just as he reached the door there was an alarm sound and the faint blue light turned to a blinking red. Maybe Sam realized that Dean was gone. He heard a loud series of clicking sounds and looked down at the door. He reached for the handle but it wouldn’t budge at all, locking him inside. He groaned and slammed his palm against it, looking out of the small window into the deserted corridor beyond.

“Dean!!” He called, but nobody was around to hear it. He slammed his fist against the door in frustration.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! ♥


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm tired but promised an update this weekend, so I apologize in advance for the mistakes I missed!

Castiel felt caged.

This wasn’t the first time he was in this kind of situation. He knew to keep a clear head and deal with the situation without panicking, but it felt considerably harder to do than usual. Rings of holy fire and hostile dimensions had felt less difficult to overcome than the bolted door of the infirmary at the Bunker. He tried to concentrate and reach inside of himself. There was Grace there, he knew. He felt something within him protest at his tentative attempt to access enough power to blast through the door. Castiel gritted his teeth, battling the rising panic which wasn’t entirely his own. How unsettling to imagine that he was frightening that little cluster of cell and pocket of energy within him. The Grace seemed to shift and bend until finally a part of it came loose. Castiel breathed a sigh of relief, trying to shake the effort it had taken off.

It wasn’t much – it barely gave him power – but he couldn’t risk taking away the power source his child was attached to.

Moments passed in which Castiel has his hand pressed to the door, ready to force it open but hesitating. His stomach was getting unsettled and pinpricks of pain shot up his spine. However small that bit of Grace had been, the soul noticed the little tear inside the construct it had made. It was this construct keeping them both alive, he couldn’t pull it apart anymore. He could take that sliver of Grace, but nothing more.

Castiel gave a start when the red warning light switched off all of a sudden, plunging him back into the faint blue night glow. The unlocking of the door rang through the room and Castiel sprang into action. He didn’t know what it meant but maybe, if he were lucky, he wasn’t too late to prevent Dean from leaving.

* * *

The darkness within Dean was shifting and dripping. It was like there were smeared foot and hand prints showing Castiel the way through the Bunker. There was so much anger, rage and violence lingering in the air, but those emotions were stubborn and loud. Underneath them were softer, but more numerous undercurrents of fear and guilt and shame. Whatever Dean was feeling now, he tried very hard to keep up the gleeful indifference that being a demon allowed for. He was wearing the demonic like a warm coat against the chill of winter. That knowledge sent a sharp pain of regret through Castiel.

He heard a loud noise in the corridor ahead, of something slamming into the wall, breaking the tiles. Dean’s voice filtered into the air, smooth and unconcerned. Castiel saw them now, the demon killing knife at Dean’s throat. Sam looked terrified. By chance he looked up and spotted Castiel and slowly he lowered the weapon. Castiel didn’t know what had happened between them before, but he knew that this was probably his only chance to still hold Dean back.

So he made a grab for him and wrapped his arms around him from behind. Dean tensed instantly and trashed against his hold, before he looked over his shoulder and saw who was holding him. He widened his eyes, black as they were. There was panic in Dean’s expression, just for Castiel to see. Castiel finally allowed that bit of Grace to reach out to Dean, holding him more firmly in place. Even though he was weakened now, there was no way that the demon could break out of his hold.

“It’s over, Dean,” he said gently. Dean didn’t try to fight it anymore and Castiel pressed his forehead against Dean’s shoulder. “It’s over.” The whispers did little to console Dean, who screamed, his wail sounding inhumane.

Sam was too shaken to do anything but stare at them.

“Come,” Castiel said gently and nudged Dean in the direction of the dungeon.

“No, Cas,” Dean pleaded, “just let me go.”

“Not like this,” he replied. Keeping his hold on Dean’s arms, he walked him back to the dungeon. Dean slumped down in the chair instantly, hunching over to cover his eyes with his palm. He didn’t even try to move out of the chair again, not when Castiel left him to prepare the blood, not when Sam stumbled into the room, still pale. Sam wiped his hair out of his face and then stared down at Dean.

“Are you holding him there?” Sam asked weakly and Castiel shook his head. “I don’t… Why is he not-“ Sam stopped himself and leant back against the wall. Castiel looked over his shoulder, at the hurt expression on Sam’s face. He wasn’t sure what was eating at him, but now wasn’t the time to worry about it.

“Dean… Your arm,” he said once he was kneeling in front of Dean. Dean didn’t move an inch. Castiel put his free hand on Dean’s knee. “Dean.” Dean sucked in a breath and lifted his head, looking at the ceiling, his dark eyes not reflecting any of the faint light. He was blinking but the blackness didn’t go away. He lowered his arm onto the armrest and Castiel put the needle among the circle of small entry wounds. Castiel watched the purified blood drain out of the syringe and Dean’s head snapped down. He groaned and pressed his chin to his chest, trying to keep from curling into himself at the pain. Castiel put the syringe away and kissed Dean’s forehead. Even if Dean lashed out now in a desperate attempt to get away, it was of no use. Castiel had a firm grip on that bit of stolen Grace and as long as Dean didn’t have an angel blade or the First Blade there was no way that he could overpower him. But Dean didn’t try. He just screamed in pain and anger. Sam waited until the energy seemed to drain out of Dean and he slumped forwards. Castiel made sure he was somewhat comfortable in the chair and that he wouldn’t fall out of it, then he stepped back.

“Why didn’t he try to fight you?” Sam asked and stepped closer to Dean, but kept out of the now useless demon trap, as if it would offer some security – against what at this point Castiel couldn’t tell. “He was so angry, Cas. Even after all that blood I gave him, he didn’t want to be cured. He was fully willing to take me out or to get me to kill him and I…” Sam rubbed his palm over his face again but Castiel could still see the tears clinging to his lashes.

“You’re asking why he didn’t attack me?” Castiel asked and Sam didn’t answer. He didn’t need to, Castiel could read the unease and the shame just as well as if Sam had spoken plainly about it. “I wondered the same thing when he didn’t leave me a message.” Sam turned his head minutely, so he could look at Castiel out of the corner of his eyes. “I was… not jealous, but still upset. Because I thought to understand the love he has for me… Just like you think you understand the love he has for you.”

“I’m not…” Sam started, but in the end he didn’t know how to continue so he kept his silence.

“Dean’s afraid. He fears failing us more than he fears being a demon or being dead,” Castiel explains. “I think the reason he was much more hostile around you was because he’s more afraid of you stopping loving him and needing him. He’s been responsible for you for years and he hasn’t stopped feeling like it. He built himself around you, trying to be exactly the person you needed him to be…,” Castiel explained. “It’s difficult being Dean… Being a demon and pretending not to care and turning his insecurities into violence is easier.” Castiel also remembered what it was like being human, how much it hurt. Sam too should understand that life was easier without a human soul. Sam was biting his lips and couldn’t bring himself to speak, but it wasn’t necessary. They looked down at Dean, waiting for a sign of him waking up. The minutes stretched out between them, feeling impossibly long even though Castiel was used to waiting.

“He is also afraid of being a father… He came to me after he broke out of his chains,” Castiel confessed and Sam looked at him, tears that had stubbornly clung to his lashes now dropping from his widened eyes. “Maybe I shouldn’t have said anything… Maybe then he wouldn’t have tried to break out.”

“Cas,” Sam started, “that’s not on you…” Castiel shook his head.

“Maybe not, but it’s still a reality I have to face,” he told Sam as calmly as he could. There was no reason to upset Sam further with his own worries, especially since he didn’t seem to be in any condition to shoulder extra worries. Castiel looked at Dean. Fatherhood… Well, Castiel guessed that fatherhood would suit Dean a man as gentle, compassionate and protective as Dean well. Castiel wasn’t entirely sure about it yet, but he decided that fatherhood wasn’t something he could just expect of Dean because he thought Dean was well suited for the task. Or because he himself wanted to do this with Dean. Dean needed to decide for himself, so maybe it was best to leave once they made sure that Dean was alright. But almost every part of his being revolted at the mere idea of leaving the Bunker and Dean behind again.

Dean moved and with a silent moan he lifted his head. His eyes were pitch black and Castiel could feel Sam tense beside him. But then the darkness pulled back and Dean gasped, shaking his head and blinking up at them. He seemed disoriented.

“You look worried, fellas,” he said curiously and Sam looked at Castiel for a moment, before he lifted the flask with holy water and threw some at Dean. Dean flinched but it was more out of surprise and then exasperation than pain. The holy water didn’t hurt him. Castiel studied him, seeing that his soul looked greatly improved, but there were still splinters of darkness, most likely caused by the Mark. Dean was still not entirely human, but maybe it was enough for now. Dean lifted his hands and brushed it off his face, but before he could say something about it, Sam spoke up:

“Welcome back, Dean.” That got Dean’s attention at once and he stared up at them both. Cas thought it was an odd expression since Dean hadn’t ever gone anywhere, but maybe there was some truth in it. When he watched Dean’s expression change from confusion to tension he thought that maybe Sam had been right. For that one short moment Dean hadn’t remembered being a demon. And maybe Sam wanted to believe that nothing about the last few weeks had really been Dean’s doing. That he had merely been possessed by something evil and now that the cure had finally worked, there were no more issues between them.

Castiel wasn’t sure what to do, so he stayed where he was while Sam went to Dean to check him over with only a minor token resistance on Dean’s part.

“Hey, uh… Cas, could I get a moment?” he asked and Castiel studied Sam’s hopeful look. Castiel didn’t want to deny Sam these first moments of having his brother back and he assumed that he deserved the time alone with him after having almost been killed by Dean just minutes before.

“I will be outside,” he said gently and then he turned around, leaving the dungeon and the brothers behind. There was a time and place for Dean and Cas to talk. It didn’t have to be now and Castiel especially didn’t want Dean to feel like he had any demands on him the moment he had recovered.

Castiel pulled out a couple of books and sat down at the table, unblinking and not seeing the words on the pages before him. After a while he let his head drop into his hands and sighed deeply.

* * *

Castiel wondered if human mothers were able to feel a child’s soul. His child wasn’t developed enough to have awareness and wouldn’t for some more months, but it still seemed to be able to at least react to some things. Castiel felt tired and sad and a faint pain burned under his ribcage. The child’s soul had long stabilized the stolen Grace and was fuelling on it again, but it seemed to be… displeased. Castiel found no other way to explain it. Or maybe Castiel just wasn’t really good at picking his own emotions apart.

He wished to go see Dean and to rest in his arms and to have him reassure him that things would be okay, but the rational part of him knew that it would be too much, too soon. He had never made it a habit to go ask Dean for help and comfort and he wouldn’t start doing it now. Their whole relationship had been based on Dean’s terms and if Castiel started demanding things now he might as well push Dean away entirely. Castiel had already been asked to leave Dean before and while he had long forgiven Dean for that, he was still afraid that it would happen again.

“Hey.” Castiel looked up when Sam walked up the steps to join him in the main room. He looked tired and his eyes were bloodshot but the heavy cloud of worry seemed to have mostly lifted.

“How is he?” Castiel asked and Sam shrugged.

“Still a little out of it,” he replied but was quick to continue when Castiel’s expression changed with his augmenting worry. “But better, I think. He’s resting now. The blood cure and everything… it really wrecked him, you know?” Castiel sighed and looked down.

“Yeah,” he agreed. It wasn’t hard to imagine that this wasn’t something Dean would just instantly recover from, no matter how much Cas and Sam hoped it. Maybe Castiel should use the Grace he has siphoned off to heal him. There was still enough around to reduce any physical ailments. The rest? The rest would take time. Even if he would recover from this, the Mark was still there.

“On the plus side,” Sam continued, “He’s hungry again. So I’m gonna go buy him some crap food and stuff it in his face myself.” He smiled faintly, but Castiel’s thoughts still circled around the Mark. Sam’s careful optimism did nothing to ease Castiel’s worries at the moment. And then there was still the issue of his pregnancy. That wouldn’t go away either and they would have to ask themselves the question whether it would be best for him to leave. If Sam saw the conflicted expression on Castiel’s face he didn’t react to it in any way. “Could you keep an eye on Dean while I’m gone?”

“Yes, of course,” Castiel said and Sam nodded, turning away to leave. Fear seized Castiel’s stomach. “Sam!” Sam stopped and turned to look at him. Castiel clenched his hands at his side, unsure how to continue. “For now Dean’s no longer a demon but the Mark of Cain is still there… This is something we have to focus on, but…”

“But?” Sam asked and there was already a weary expression on his face and he heaved a small sigh. Castiel hesitated.

“I’m still having a child… And Dean wanted to run away from that too...” Sam’s expression softened and he reached out his free hand to put it on Castiel’s shoulder. After a moment he pulled Castiel towards him and gave him a one armed hug. Castiel was surprised but remembered to return the hug, instantly missing the comfort it brought him when Sam pulled back.

“He was a demon then, Cas…,” Sam assured him and Castiel didn’t have it in himself to assure Sam that there had still been enough of the regular Dean inside him then to make Cas know that Dean was afraid of this.

“But the Mark of Cain,” Castiel wanted to protest but Sam shook his head.

“Cas, man… I’m beat… One battle at the time okay?” he interrupted him. His voice was kind but he made it clear that he didn’t want to talk about this now. “So I’m just gonna grab my brother some cholesterol.” Some sort of weak grin formed on Sam’s face and he nodded at Castiel. Before he left he lifted his hand. “And then I’m gonna get drunk.”

Castiel watched him leave, knowing that Sam was at the end of his strength. Considering the tight bond the brothers shared, no matter how strained it had been, probably meant that this affected both Sam and Dean far more than it did him. He didn’t know what his and Dean’s relationship was at this point, but it was, in general far more brittle than what Sam and Dean had. They craved permanence, no matter what they at times said about the other brother. And while Castiel’s feelings for Dean were not going to change, he couldn’t expect Dean to not change his mind about the two of them.

Human romantic relationships, Castiel knew, weren’t always made to last.

He lowered his head and put his palm on his stomach once again, hoping for some sort of sign what to do now. But his child didn’t give him any answers. He only knew that he had to see Dean.

* * *

He tried not to hesitate this time. Once he reached Dean’s door and found it closed he didn’t linger. He lifted his hand and knocked. It felt odd to do it, but there was a reason Dean had the door closed and Castiel understood now that it meant he wanted privacy. When Dean answered Castiel opened the door, peeking into the room before he stepped inside. Dean was lying on the top of his bed, still fully dressed. He was pale and his hair were in disarray and he obviously had some difficulty getting up.

“Sam asked me to keep an eye on you. Is that alright?” he asked and Dean lifted his eyebrow.

“Of course, Cas,” he said, his voice sounding hoarse. Castiel smiled timidly and closed the door behind himself. An entire room stretched between them just like the ensuing silence.

“How are you Dean?” Castiel finally asked and Dean shrugged.

“Fine I guess? A bit tired.”

“You should sit down,” Castiel suggested and even though Dean rolled his eyes, he did just that. And maybe it was for the best because Castiel had seen how his legs had trembled. “Maybe I can help?”

“Nah, it’s okay. I’ll just need to sleep for like two weeks and then I’ll be as good as new,” Dean said with a dismissive wave of his hand. Castiel lingered by the door, waiting for Dean to give him a hint what he should do. “So… What about Sam? Does he want a divorce?” Dean finally asked, trying for humor but it fell flat. Castiel heard the small hitch in his voice and saw how he instantly averted his eyes. He stared at a book on his bedside table underneath which Castiel could see some paper peeking out.

“No… I think he’s shaken up, but he seems optimistic,” Castiel told him. Dean snorted and started cleaning up the books that were strewn about on the bed.

“Yeah, optimistic my ass” he huffed, “I tried to kill him, Cas.”

“And he still won’t want to leave your side…” That made Dean duck his head but he didn’t look happy about this. “I know that Sam is happy to believe that whatever you said or did while you were a demon was not you… Or at least mostly not you.”

“He’s always been a hopeful kinda guy,” Dean said to that, a sad smile pulling at his lips. After a while he looked up. “It was me, Cas… Bad me, _rotten_ me. But still me. You know that.” There was a desperation in Dean’s tone even though he refused to meet Castiel’s eyes. He wasn’t entirely sure what Dean needed to hear now. Maybe just the truth.

“I know that,” Castiel answered eventually and Dean covered his face with his palms.

“Do _you_ want a divorce?” Dean’s voice came out small and muffled, like he had wanted to hold them back but couldn’t.

“I would like a proposal first,” Castiel attempted to joke and it made Dean drop his hands and look up. “But no… Nothing about my feelings for you have changed. Maybe… Maybe I’ve gained more respect for you even… You were a demon and yet to me you were kind.”

“Come on, man. I was an asshole to you!” Dean protested but he angled his body towards Cas and straightened a bit. Castiel took it as a good sign and went to sit down next to him. Dean instantly leaned towards him, a solid warmth next to Castiel even though he was holding back from touching him.

“Sometimes,” Castiel agreed, “but I also remember how you came to me earlier to touch me.” Castiel saw the tips of Dean’s ears redden. Castiel leant to the side until his shoulder brushed Dean’s. “And you didn’t try to kill me, so I think you wanted to keep me around.”

“True… And… I didn’t actually want to kill Sam, I just… I just wanted to be gone… Though I’m not sure that came through.” The words registered and the sheepish expression did too, but somehow Castiel felt a sudden rush of fear.

“Please don’t leave,” he pleaded and Dean looked at him in confusion. “I will leave if you don’t want it but I need you to be safe.”

“What are you talking about, babe?” Dean asked, worry creeping into his tone. He reached out to put his hand on Castiel’s back and Castiel felt both the tiny pulse of Grace as a reaction to the Mark and also a spark of something else in the pit of his stomach. The baby’s instinctual reaction to the proximity or to Castiel’s stress, he wasn’t sure yet what it meant. But both made him flinch and Dean drew back his hand, a wounded expression on his face.

“Please don’t take away your hand, I just- I mean-“ Castiel didn’t have to finish the sentence for Dean to understand. He put both hands around Castiel and gave him a firm hug before slowly letting him go again, but keeping his hand on Castiel’s back. Castiel took a deep breath, internally cursing his recent tendency to overreact. Dean watched him in silence, letting Castiel settle first. “Earlier you wanted to leave and I’m not sure if you still do or if you’ve reconsidered now that there’s no more veil over your human emotions.” Dean didn’t react to that for a moment and Castiel saw different emotions flicker over his face. “It’s not something I want to burden you with.”

“You’re talking about… the glue.”

“Don’t call it glue!” Castiel called, exasperated all of a sudden. Dean actually laughed at that, his eyes crinkling at the corners. Dean wrapped his arm around Castiel’s shoulder and pulled him close enough to press a kiss to his cheek. “We both didn’t mean this to happen and I don’t want to make you feel like you’re required to be a parent if you don’t want to.”

“Cas… It’s not that I don’t want to… It’s just that my life is currently one steaming pile of crap,” Dean said, shaking his head but his expression was earnest when he looked at Castiel. “I don’t think I can be who you need me to be…”

“If you don’t want me to have the child here, then I will leave. I will not think ill of you for it,” Castiel told him gently. “I don’t want to leave you, but I also don’t want to make you feel like you don’t have a choice.”

“No, don’t leave,” Dean told him firmly and when Castiel opened his mouth Dean put his palm over Castiel’s lips. “No. We’ll figure it out. There’s no way that I will let you put yourself in danger when there’s a perfectly safe fortress here. If you’re having a child then you will damn well have it in the safest place in America.” Dean narrowed his eyes at him. “Understood?” Castiel nodded even though his eyes were filling with tears again that were soon spilling over Dean’s fingers.

“Thank you, Dean,” Castiel muttered when Dean pulled away his hand. “I’m not used to crying this much.” Dean smiled and helped him wipe them away even though new tears slipped down his cheeks. Dean didn’t seem like he wanted to talk about potential fatherhood anymore and Castiel couldn’t exactly fault him for it. The situation was odd at best and he was just glad that he didn’t have to pack his things and leave. However Dean wanted to insert himself into the life of the child coming out of their relationship, Castiel would accept it. He knew that Dean wasn’t really in any frame of mind to think positively about a future that involved them and a child.

Sam came into the room with food which he, as he had promised, decided to feed to Dean, or at least observe Dean eat. Castiel decided it was time for him to take his leave.

“Where are you going?” Dean asked the moment Castiel rose.

“Back to bed…” Castiel replied. Dean seemed appeased by that and let Sam hand him food. Castiel left the brothers behind and went back to the infirmary. When Castiel was lying down and staring up at the ceiling he tried to imagine how the next few months would go. Heaven and Hell were relatively quiet at the moment, Dean was no longer a demon, and he was not currently dying. Everything seemed to have calmed down, but Castiel knew not to hope for an end of the pain.

He wasn’t dying right now, but would there be a life for him after his child was born? Would he be able to hold it and love it? Or would he waste away the moment the child had left his body? The thought of never being able to see his child send a fresh wave of tears to his eyes which caused him a certain amount of annoyance.

If Castiel was being honest with himself he didn’t only want Dean to be this child’s father so that there would be a parent to love it even if he was gone. No, he desperately wanted to have a family now that the faintest glimmer of a chance presented itself.

But maybe this was not what Dean needed – Dean already had a family into which Castiel only fit in awkwardly. And there was no guarantee that Dean would be openly affectionate with him now just because Sam knew about them. He might as well falter under the perceived pressure of living up to who Dean thought Castiel needed him to be.

He sighed deeply and willed himself to sleep even though he knew that sleep would not be coming to him anytime soon.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay!

Dean was doing his best to keep true to his prediction that he would sleep for two weeks; in the long, long days following his cure Castiel saw almost nothing of him.

Castiel stared at his hands which were resting in his lap. He was sitting on the examination chair in the medical rooms. He heard the light bulbs flicker and felt the ventilation system disturb the air. Castiel was used to waiting, but there was a nervous thrum under his skin – it made him want to move, it pushed him to eat and sleep, it kept him restless. His gaze flicked up to the clock silently ticking away above one of the cabinets. It was mid-morning, late enough for Sam and Dean to be up on their feet.

Castiel slipped down the chair and made his way out of the room and towards the kitchen. Used cups were sitting in the sink and Castiel knew that they had not been there when he had last visited the kitchen two hours ago. Frowning, Castiel poured himself a glass of orange juice and went to prepare food to keep his body a healthy environment for the child only to find the fridge mostly empty. He wasn’t sure what kind of grocery shopping routine the Winchesters hat but the food was dwindling again. Castiel shook his head. A piece of toast would have to do.

He prepared coffee for Dean and Sam and then carried the cups out of the kitchen. He could hear Sam typing away at his laptop, with the occasional turning of a heavy page. He hesitated before going in, lingering in the doorway and observing. After a moment, Sam looked up and spotted him.

“Oh, hey Cas!” he called. “You can just come in, you know?” There was humor in Sam’s voice which made Castiel believe that Sam was joking, but in fact Castiel didn’t really feel all that welcome to wander around. Especially not recently. Since Dean’s cure and subsequence constant sleeping.

“Have you made progress?” Castiel asked, stepping closer. Sam sighed and wiped his hair out his face.

“I don’t know, man… There’s just nothing in here about the Mark. I’ve started looking into other supernatural markings, but so far nothing. I don’t even know if we’re looking where we’re supposed to,” Sam confessed and Castiel nodded slowly. After a while he remembered the cup in his hands.

“I made you a cup of coffee,” he said and put it down on the table next to Sam’s elbow. Sam’s face lit up at once, but then he eyed the other cup still in Castiel’s hand.

“I don’t know if it applies to you to, but I read that pregnant people shouldn’t drink coffee,” he said carefully, but then he sighed and wiped his hands down his face. “And that’s another thing to research.”

“I don’t think it requires research at the moment. I’m doing well now that the nausea seems to have abated,” Castiel told him and the corner of Sam’s lip quirked up. “Besides, the coffee is not for me. I meant to take it to Dean.”

And that instantly got a reaction from Sam; there was a flicker of worry crossing his face and then he pushed himself away from the table to get up.

“I think Dean’s sleeping,” he said.

“Wasn’t he awake earlier?” Castiel asked, “there were mugs in the kitchen.”

“Uh, yes. You’re right, but he’s still recovering, you know…?” Upon Castiel’s doubtful silence Sam reached out slowly for the mug still cradled in Castiel’s palms. “Why don’t I take it to him later?” Castiel held on to it.

“If he’s asleep anyway should it matter who goes to wake him?” Castiel challenged and Sam looked at him with a blank expression. Still Castiel’s grip on the cup relaxed and Sam pulled it out of Castiel’s fingers.

“I guess not,” he admitted after a while, nervously turning the cup around in his hand, but Castiel made no move to take the coffee back, instead he crossed his arms over his chest. Sam inched back slightly, aware of Castiel’s silent disapproval, bumping his hip into the chair. “Look,” Sam finally said, “I just don’t think it’s a good time now.”

“It’s never a good time recently,” Castiel observed, knowing well that his words came out more hurt than intended. In the end he turned away and walked back to the infirmary, Sam’s call of his name ignored.

Castiel knew he was being unreasonable but it felt good to slam the door even though nobody was there to witness his anger. He paced the already familiar tiled floor, stopped to lean against the table only to push away again for more pacing.

This had been going on for days now. Castiel had seen Dean only fleetingly, like the image of a ghost drifting in and out of the kitchen or the library. He saw his marks – the used tea cups, the pantry emptying, the research books piling up – but he had spoken only a couple of sentences to him. Dean did look exhausted, but he doubted that he was truly only sleeping.

So why was Castiel not seeing him? Why did Sam divert him whenever he wanted to go to Dean’s room? Did Dean not want to see him? Was Sam afraid that Dean would try to leave again when he was confronted with his impending fatherhood?

Castiel clenched his hands, trying not to let his thoughts drive him into a corner. If he could just talk to Dean, maybe this situation would clear up.

After some more pacing, Castiel decided that his time would be better spent doing research. He turned around again to walk back to where Sam was, only to happen upon both of the Winchesters. Dean was leaning against the table, looking slightly disheveled but healthy. The coffee cup was halfway up to his lips and he blinked at Castiel in surprise. Whatever Sam had been saying, it died on his tongue.

“Good morning,” Castiel said into the silence and for some reason the doubt had turned into a faint anger.

“Morning, Cas,” Dean answered and Castiel was now enough versed in human expressions to know that the air between them was awkward.

“I’m going out,” he said flatly.

“What? Why?” Dean asked at once, his tone worried. He put down his coffee and shifted when Castiel passed him but his hands remained at his sides in indecision.

“I have to pick up a book,” Castiel lied.

“A book,” Sam repeated and Castiel looked over his shoulder.

“Yes. It might help me in my condition.”

“But I thought you were fine?” Sam wanted to know and Dean too started to look concerned now.

“I changed my mind,” Castiel snapped, “good-bye.” He crossed the hall, walked up the spiral stairs and slammed the metal door behind him. And now, _that_ felt satisfying.

* * *

 

Castiel was gripping the steering wheel tightly, ignoring the vibration of his phone against his hip. A light rain was falling, turning the landscape hazy but still inviting. It was good to be outside even if he still felt cramped in his car.

He knew that it was highly improbable but he felt like staying in the Bunker would have suffocated him. He was glad that the miles between him and the Winchesters’ expert avoidance grew. He knew that his anger was more dramatic than it should be, but he liked the irritation better than that feeling of doubt and displacement. Wondering and waiting and feeling unwelcome had made Castiel feel… Unmoving. He didn’t want to force himself upon Dean, he had taken Sam’s advice to heart and gave him his space. He kept all the things he wanted to say trapped in his throat. He didn’t try to fit himself into the space next to Dean that had once existed for him. He didn’t try to talk to Sam about the child. He didn’t try to go where the Winchesters were because he could intrude.

He didn’t go anywhere.

The phone vibrated again and Castiel pulled it out of his pocket without looking at it and tossed it on the passenger seat. There it continued to vibrate for a moment before it fell into silence. Castiel gave a sharp nod of approval and drove on. The next nuisance only came up when he noticed that he was running low on gas. He was on a country road, with some trees at the side and fields behind. It would not be wise to run out of gas out of nowhere and have Dean come rescue him. Since he hadn’t passed a gas station in a while, he decided not to turn around but to drive on. The landscape around him didn’t change and neither did the soft drizzle of rain. Castiel let his thoughts cool down, stopping the vicious circling around the Winchesters and simply drove.

* * *

 

Castiel parked his car and grabbed his phone with his two missed calls from Dean that Castiel fully intended to ignore. He looked up at the building in front of him. It was a small house with a large window showing inside. The plants lining the wall beneath the window were hanging down with the weight of the rain. It was the first building Castiel had seen and while it was not a gas station it was certainly open to guests. A wooden sign next to the road read simply “The Farm Tea Room”. Castiel assumed that there was no harm in delaying his return with a cup of tea. He walked the few steps to the door and pushed it open.

The bell chimed above his head as the door opened and closed. The inside was small enough for Castiel to survey it with one glance; worn wooden floor, solid brick walls that were painted white and on one side covered with floral tapestry. A group of uniform tables and chairs were filling the space between him and the sturdy wooden counter. There were shelves on the wall to his right, stacked high with bags of tea, jam and honey. There was a sign above them that advertised “C.C. Mullen’s organic and regional honey”.

“Hi there!” The clear voice rang through the small space and Castiel turned around to see a woman come out of a door to step behind the counter. Castiel instantly relaxed because even though his borrowed Grace was failing, he saw that the woman was kind and posed no threat at all. Maybe it was good to stop and rest a while. He walked up to the counter. The woman was smiling encouragingly, a hint of understanding in her expression. “You look like you’ve had a rough day.”

“Yes,” Castiel said and even though the woman would probably listen kindly to his worries Castiel was still feeling too tired to even start thinking about his problems again. She drummed her fingers on the counter top and then she pointed her thumb over her shoulder.

“How about you get a nice cup of tea and some sweets? Waffles with honey always pick me up after a tiring day,” she suggested and Castiel nodded. “Well then, take a seat.” He shuffled away from the counter and sat down in the little niche made by the window. The rain has slightly picked up and the landscape outside had become darker and the shapes hazier. There was a farm behind this building. Everything was quiet and calm.

Castiel leant back in his chair and sighed. The woman behind the counter didn’t make any attempt to engage him in a conversation even though she seemed happy about having him as a visitor. The other guests who came in later to grab some honey had a gentle and familiar conversation with her which faded into the background.

Castiel just sat, drank his tea and enjoyed the fact that the waffle wasn’t met with a rebellious stomach. Maybe he should plan his strategy upon returning to the Bunker, but he was tired of it. He had been through the same cycle of worrying thoughts countless times. He knew that Dean wanted him to stay, desperately even, but none of the Winchesters have gone out of the way to make him feel like he was welcome at the Bunker. He had only ever been there out of necessity, in moments of high tension where Castiel’s intervention was needed or on the few occasions that Castiel needed their intervention. The Bunker had permanence for the Winchesters, but Castiel had been cast out before and he didn’t know how to trust them not to do it again if things got too tense. With Dean’s almost escape and the child, Castiel was the issue that nobody wanted to talk about. He didn’t like being the problem, but he neither liked being the solution. Sometimes… Sometimes, Castiel thought with a surge of tired sadness, he would just like being their friend. Nothing more. Just their friend.

Castiel put down his fork and slowly curled in on himself to touch his hand to his stomach. The potential ticking time bomb was nothing but a soft warmth beneath his palms that radiated through the thin fabric of his shirt. It was unassuming, just like the Mark on Dean’s arm. Castiel sighed. It was getting late and he had avoided a confrontation (if there would be one) for long enough.

“Heading home?” the woman asked with a smile, looking up from the newspaper she was reading at a table close to his now that there were no more other patrons.

“Yes… I have business to attend to and should not linger for too long,” he told her. He looked at the glass display built into the counter. “I would like to take home a pie if that’s possible. And some honey too.”

“Sure thing, kid,” she told him and Castiel had to smile.

* * *

 

The door of the Bunker opened with a loud creak. When Castiel reached the railing of the gallery he saw that both Sam and Dean were in the hall below, looking at him.

“Cas! Hey!” Dean called and by the time Castiel had descended the spiral staircase he was up on his feet to meet him. He touched Castiel’s shoulder to give him a look over, but even though his hand lingered, it eventually dropped. Castiel could see relief in Dean’s eyes, but there was tension keeping his shoulders rigid.

“Hello,” Castiel replied eventually and moved past Dean to put his paper bag on top of the table. Dean came to stand close to him but other than the warmth of his presence he wouldn’t touch him. Castiel was entirely sure why this displeased him. That Dean refused to be openly affectionate when Sam was around was hardly new, but for some reason Cas had believed that part of this might change, now that Sam knew. Considering how both Winchesters had tried to avoid him recently Dean’s continued distance should not sting as it did.

“So… What about the book? Was it useful?” Sam asked.

“Is anything wrong with you and the kid?” Dean added and Castiel glared at both of them.

“I lied,” he said simply and while Sam widened his eyes Dean looked bashful. “I think that’s what you humans do when you’re annoyed and need to get away. I just needed to leave.” Before Sam and Dean could react, he pulled the pie and the honey out of the paper bag from the Farm Tea Room.

“You went shopping?” Dean asked, but Castiel thought that questions with obvious answers didn’t need replies. He walked away and went to the kitchen with the honey. It was time for dinner anyway and he was hungry. But he recalled that the fridge was empty. Before he could turn around again in disappointment he heard footsteps approaching and then the Winchesters came down the couple of steps into the kitchen. Both looked uneasy, but they had brought the pie with them.

“I went out to get some food earlier. There’s a salad in the fridge for you,” Sam told him. “Dean wanted me to get you a cheeseburger but I think you should eat healthy.”

“He got you a cheeseburger anyway,” Dean added with a small smile that was there and gone again in a second, and started putting plates on the table. Castiel wasn’t sure what he wanted to say to them, so he just leant against the fridge and watched them prepare the table.

“So? I bet you’re hungry,” Dean continued once everything was set and Castiel still hadn’t moved.

“Not particularly, but it’s necessary that I eat so that the child can get nourishment,” he informed them and Dean frowned, but with a suppressed sigh Castiel sat down. They started eating in silence, the only disruption coming from Dean who moaned around a bite of pie. Sam was still more subdued and Castiel was quite alright with not trying to ease his mood at the moment. He was angry after all.

“Will we talk about this?” Castiel asked eventually even though he knew the Winchesters’ preferred answer, which was also evident in how they shot each other insecure looks. “I don’t know what your problem is, but apparently you think that keeping me away is the best course of action.”

“No,” Sam started and when Castiel’s looked at Dean he saw his widened eyes.

“No?” Castiel challenged. “So Dean you’ve been sleeping so much the last few days that you couldn’t even have a conversation with me?”

“What? No, Cas,” he replied promptly, his voice carrying a note of defensiveness.

“It’s just… That…,” Sam started when Dean failed to add anything else. Castiel looked at him expectantly but Sam faltered and ended up sighing. “Look… I know we didn’t do this right… I was afraid that if Dean got confronted with having to be a father he might… I don’t know… get worse?” Castiel turned his eyed away, focusing on eating his salad instead. He couldn’t pretend that he wasn’t hurt by this so it was best not to say anything at all.

“I didn’t know you were keeping him away,” Dean hissed to which Sam flinched.

“You’ve been hiding out in your room whenever he was out, I thought I should!” he hissed back. Castiel just let them argue, it wasn’t like it would make this any better.

“Dude, I was nervous, okay? You think I wanted to see you either after I almost bashed your head in?” Sam didn’t answer to that. After a stretch of tense silence Castiel felt someone’s touch on his hand. He looked down to see freckled fingers wrapping around his.

“Cas… I’m sorry. I don’t know what I’m doing and I got scared,” Dean said and Castiel looked up. Dean seemed honest and concerned. “I’ve put children – my children – in danger even before I had the Mark of Cain.” Castiel wasn’t entirely sure what Dean was talking about, but he understood him.

“What will happen to us now?” Castiel asked and curled his fingers around Dean’s, seeing the tips of Dean’s ears color. Dean looked at Sam out of the corner of his eyes but then he quickly focused on Castiel again.

“Honestly? I don’t know Cas… We’ll just have to try,” he said and gave Castiel’s hand a squeeze, “I won’t hide anymore.” He wrinkled his nose just after he had said that and shrugged. “Well okay, I might still hide, but you’re free to come find me. Sam won’t be a prison guard anymore.” That got an indignant huff out of Sam, but Castiel was pleased to see him nod too. “We good?” Castiel could hear the hopeful undertone of the apparently casual question and he wasn’t interested in dragging this conversation out just for the sake of it. So he nodded. Dean breathed in relief and patted Castiel’s hand before withdrawing his fingers again to continue eatin.

“How’s the baby doing anyway?” Sam asked when they had sunken back into a less strained silence. He was scrapping his fork in circles around the rest of pie on his plate. Dean eyed the movements with irritation.

“Not abnormally I suppose, given the circumstances,” Castiel answered and looked down into the general direction of his stomach. “It’s still generating energy which stops the deterioration of the Grace I possess.”

“I remember how you look,” Dean spoke up, surprising both Castiel and Sam who turned to look at Dean with raised eyebrows. Dean’s eyes darted to him before he lowered them to the table. “When I was a demon I could see Cas’ true form… Or whatever was left of it, I suppose…” He raised his head and frowned at Castiel. “You said that you would have been dead without the baby.” Out of the corner of his eyes Castiel could see Sam shift in his seat, startled.

“Yes… I can’t be entirely sure why my continued survival has been possible, but the way it feels like is…” Castiel narrowed his eyes and tried to find the right words for how the Grace and the baby were interacting inside of him. Where before the Grace had been a cold weight in the center of his chest, shooting its burning shards through Castiel’s body, it was now slightly lighter, slightly more condensed and it no longer splintered further. But it was still uncomfortable and he could feel that the child’s presence hadn’t lessened the straining tension. It was just pulling the fragments closer to the core. It didn’t hurt anymore, but Castiel didn’t feel like the danger was over.

“Self-defense? You told me you supposed it was self-defense.” Dean’s words pulled Castiel out of his thoughts and he nodded. “To keep you alive?”

“I’m not sure… I fear it was mostly to keep the Grace from collapsing… Angels and humans aren’t supposed to have sex since it tends to create a surplus of energy which is why Nephilim were born with powers even though they came from human mothers. I have to assume that the energy produced by Dean and me during intercourse was snatched up by the Grace to generate an even more potent power source.”

“A soul?” Sam asked - while Dean muttered not to talk about ‘intercourse’ - which Castiel affirmed. 

“As you remember, we angels can gain power by touching or…” Castiel sighed “swallowing souls. The miniscule soul was pulled into the Grace where it can grow and hold the Grace together, keeping it from being destroyed by my body falling apart around it…”

“You mean to say that the Grace is sentient?” Sam asked.

“Not exactly… But depending on an angel’s power it has some basic functions; healing the angel when the vessel is hurt is one of them. In line with this my vessel must have been altered in a way to allow the Grace to find a way to be sustained…” Dean didn’t look particularly thrilled at this information but it wasn’t like Cas had expected him to and neither was he himself pleased with the conclusions he had reached. “But I can’t be sure.”

“Well, putting aside how I don’t understand how souls are made, I’m still a bit confused how this worked… Physically I mean,” Sam spoke up and Dean turned his head towards him with an incredulous expression which Sam ignored. “Does the baby have a physical shape? What kind of DNA does it have? Was Dean’s sperm even involved or was it more like… I don’t know, created out of love?”

“This conversation just got hella awkward,” Dean muttered and Sam shot him a dark glare.

“Don’t you want to know how this baby will get out of Cas? Or how it got _in_ there in the first place?” he argued and Dean groaned, hiding his face in his palm. It didn’t seem like Dean was all that interested in being part of this conversation. But truth to be told Castiel didn’t have all the answers that Sam was looking for either. “Cas is male and we have to think about how this baby is going to grow and come out eventually.”

“I’m not male,” Castiel argued.

“But you have the anatomy of a human male, don’t you?” Sam asked without missing a beat.

“Yes, but angelic will can override human biology,” Castiel told him. “Usually vessels aren’t changed by the angel inhabiting them, but usually angels aren’t dying either.”

“So, what? It’s just going to change your body and you notice nothing?” Castiel narrowed his eyes at Dean’s irritated tone.

“As I told you when you were a demon,” Castiel started slowly and saw Dean flinch minutely, “I didn’t know.” He turned his attention away from Dean’s gloomy expression to look at Sam instead. “I can’t tell if the child is situated within a pocket of Grace, which would make the extraction…” Deadly. “Difficult,” Castiel decided to say. He looked away because even small lies were hard for him and focused on his hands resting on top of the table. “If the Grace is making my internal organs change, then we can assume that I have a womb and that means surgically removing the child will be possible if I don’t develop the necessary opening for a natural birth.”

“We’ve never performed a C-section, Cas,” Dean said flatly and Castiel’s eyes fixed on him.

“Then I will perform it myself,” Castiel snapped back.

“What’s going on?” Sam asked, his voice alarmed and maybe with good cause. “What’s getting into you now, Dean?”

“It’s just don’t get how you can say you didn’t know that it was possible but then state that Grace can alter human bodies if hard pressed. I mean didn’t you notice that your internal organs were getting fucked?”

“What are you even saying, Dean?” Sam asked incredulously, but Castiel knew with painful clarity what Dean was getting it.

“You knew that Grace could change you! Couldn’t you have utilized this tidbit of knowledge?” After the words had left Dean’s mouth he frowned, maybe understanding just what he was implying. The accusation was there in his words, the doubt was barely contained in his expression, but still Dean was gracious enough to make minimal amends: “We could have done something about your batteries running out.”

“It’s as you said. I was dying,” Castiel told him, trying to keep his voice from shaking. With what? Rage? Hurt? He got up from the table and walked towards the fridge, putting some distance between him and Dean. He didn’t know why he felt the need to do it and both Dean and Sam looked alarmed. Guilt started to creep into Dean’s entire posture, but he still had a stern expression on his face. “I was in constant pain. It wasn’t just a question of batteries running out but of being killed by the Grace burning up. Internal organs growing or dying within me would have hardly made a difference.”

“Cas… We didn’t know.” Sam was looking at him with a pained expression and the honest distress in his voice seemed to chip away at some of Dean’s defenses.

“Would you, Dean?” he asked instead of answering Sam. Confusion flickered over Dean’s expression. “Have used this knowledge in my favor?” Dean didn’t answer instantly and that was in part enough for Castiel to go on: “When you found out that I was dying, did you even think about trying to prevent it?” The question was met with silence and Dean’s unrelenting staring. Emotions were flickering over Dean’s face but nothing lasted long enough for Castiel to read properly. “Because I knew that I was dying and I didn’t think there was a way out. I focused everything on the one task I had, just like you did; killing Metatron. And then…? Well, I survived and you didn’t and it no longer mattered.” Dean continued looking at him, but in the end he pushed himself away from the chair and Sam grabbed onto his sleeve, but Dean wasn’t running away. He patted Sam’s shoulder and then he stepped around the table to approach Cas.

“I’m sorry, babe,” he whispered, his voice sounding hoarse and soon enough Dean’s strong arms were wrapped around him. Dimly, Castiel noticed the sigh of relief coming from Sam, but he also noticed the warmth of Dean’s body, the comfort of being in his arms and having to think and feel nothing else beyond them. He felt the light movement of Dean’s lips against Castiel’s temple that felt like voiceless prayers breathed against his skin.

Suddenly everything was just a bit better but Castiel still started crying noiselessly.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to get angry or imply that you were doing something behind my back. I’m sorry.” Dean continued to say and he gently rubbed Castiel’s back.

“I’m always crying,” Castiel said instead of offering him easy forgiveness. Dean drew back a bit and wiped his thumbs over Castiel’s cheeks.

“That’s okay. Better than becoming a grumpy dick like me, right?” he tried to joke but when Castiel looked up into his eyes, he saw that Dean was saddened by how their conversation had played out. “I’m glad that you’re not dying anymore and that in some way I helped making sure that you’re still here.”

“Me too,” Castiel told him and Dean pressed his lips to Castiel’s forehead. After that he coughed in embarrassment and stepped away, but still kept a hand on Castiel’s elbow, making sure he wasn’t going anywhere.

“I still can’t believe that you two are a couple and that you haven’t told me,” was all Sam said when Dean looked at him with a mix of apprehension and challenge. The tension partially bled out of Dean and he gave an awkward shrug. “Did you think I’d get angry? Or is that more of your embarrassed about having emotions crap?”

“Shut up, Sam.” Dean muttered but he did pull Castiel closer to him. Sam laughed, but didn’t continue his good-natured teasing.

“Well, uhm…” Dean started, “thanks for the pie and… Forcing this conversation I guess.”

“You’re welcome,” Castiel told him solemnly, which only made Dean snort. But then he still fidgeted around a bit.

“I guess I’ll go put some extra blanket and pillows on my bed?” His face was red when he asked and it took Sam’s repressed huff of laughter for Castiel to understand what he was saying.

“Oh… Yes, of course,” he answered and Dean’s mouth pulled into a quick smile. He gave Castiel’s waist a squeeze and then he left the kitchen. Castiel tried to process the various turns the last long conversation had taken. It was almost a bit overwhelming.

“His anger… Do you think that was just him being an idiot about his emotions or…” Sam’s careful question made Castiel look up in surprise.

“The Mark?” he asked and Sam shrugged. He returned to pushing the left over crumbs around on his plate. Castiel didn’t actually have an answer to that. He had almost forgotten the Mark.

“Cas, bed’s ready. You coming for…” Dean’s voice called not long after and when both him and Sam looked up Dean stopped himself. He cleared his throat. “To inspect it?”

“Do it while I’m still in the kitchen,” Sam commented dryly, masking the worried frown he had worn just before. Castiel shot Sam one last look, but then he looked up to smile at Dean. He grabbed his hand and let himself be pulled out of the kitchen. He shoved the worry about the Mark of Cain to the back of his head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! ♥


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for the long wait. I had to finish my Masters and my DCBB roughly at the same time, so I was a bit distracted! But I've already outlined the next chapter so it shouldn't take me so long to update this time!

A couple of weeks passed without anything happening that caused Castiel worry. Sam had on more than one occasion teasingly remarked that he and Dean were in the honeymoon phase of their relationship. Castiel wasn’t sure what exactly he meant by that, but it was true that something had shifted between him and Dean. Most noticeably of all, Dean was now open about the fact that was a relationship. Before, their time together had always been short and hidden away in an impersonal motel room or silent and secret. Now they had to learn how to be a couple in ways that didn’t only sent a nervous rush through Dean. Castiel was excited about every little touch. He loved to wake up with Dean in the mornings, to receive a kiss in the over the first cup of coffee, he relished in the gentle, freely administered touches. They were still quiet at night, with Sam right down the hallway but Castiel even loved this. The moments wrapped up in each other, breathing and moving quietly. To again feel Dean’s hand on his skin. It was marvelous.

“Earth to Cas?” Castiel blinked in surprise and looked to the side. Dean was standing next to him in his robe, hair still in disarray. He held a cup in his hand. “Something wrong with the coffee machine? Are you two having a moment?”

“A moment?” Castiel asked and looked down. And yes, he stood in front of the machine, the hot chocolate he had made with it already cooling.

“With the,” Dean started but then he waved his hand. “Forget it. Just let me get a coffee, alright?” Castiel stepped to the side and Dean pushed the buttons. The sound of the machine filled the kitchen and Castiel watched Dean. Dean tapped his foot in an irregular rhythm. He clenched his fingers around the spoon and occasionally reached out to pinch Castiel’s side or to hold on to his shirt. When the coffee was done Dean gave him a quick kiss on the lips and then he left again without a word.

While Castiel liked to believe that now was the time for being lovers, there was still something bothering him. A shadow in the corner of his eyes, always present, but never in full sight. Dean was starting to touch his arm again. He always kept the Mark covered up, as if the mere sight of it could set him back down a dark road. But Castiel didn’t have to see it to know that it was thrumming under his skin, filling him with whispers of something different than excitement for their life together.

He wasn’t yet doing more than seem nervous and skittish and he once threw the remote at his TV screen but his anger wasn’t as sharp and all-encompassing as it could be. Still, Sam too was starting to look at his brother with concern mixed into fond exasperation. And when he wasn’t sitting up with them, then he turned to research with renewed vigor.

Castiel looked out of the kitchen in indecision but in the end he left with his drink and found Dean sitting in his room, rubbing his forehead. He immediately stopped and put on a smile the moment he saw Castiel standing in the door.

“You know that this is your room too, no need to linger by the door and wait to be allowed in,” Dean told him with a wink and patted the space next to him on the bed. As always Dean had left ample space for Castiel to slip into. He did crave the constant closeness but he could also see how Dean strained to keep the smile on his face and how he rubbed his arm.

“Actually,” Castiel said and leant against the edge of the desk. “I was wondering if it wouldn’t be good if you had some space to withdraw to.” He saw Dean frown in confusion, pursing his lips as if to ask a question but not saying anything. “There are a lot of unused rooms in the Bunker. I could get my own and we could just sleep together?” Dean put his coffee cup on the night table and sat up properly, a look of consternation crossing his face. He knew that this wouldn’t be easy to accomplish.

“I don’t need my space,” he argued. “I like having you right here.” Castiel smiled at that and it at least eased some of the tension in Dean. “What’s this about, really?”

“I know you sometimes brood.” Dean protested. “And the moment I come in here you always force yourself to be cheerful. I know you don’t like to talk about your emotions and that you prefer to go through them on your own… And while I would love for you to speak to me, I think you need to have the option of just doing your things by yourself.” Dean crossed his arms over his chest.

“So insightful at once, Cas?” he teased but Castiel only raised an eyebrow. Dean sighed heavily and shrugged. “Yeah, I guess so? I got used to having my space and I like having it to myself. A... place to withdraw to I suppose. Especially if I’m angry.” Castiel guessed that this was a step into the right direction.

“We’re a couple now and I think couples are supposed to talk in order to have a healthy relationship,” he said and Dean huffed at that.

“What are you, an advice column now?” Dean laughed. “Heh, from angelic pillar of light to relationship advice column.” Castiel didn’t particularly appreciate the joke, but Dean found it hilarious so he let him have his joy for a moment.

“I’m just saying that if you’re annoyed at me, you should tell me. I mean you usually do, but you’ve been holding back for a while now.”

“Yeah well… It kinda bothers me that you leave your mugs lying around everywhere,” Dean said but his tone was mostly joking. His small smile slipped off his face though. “I don’t really want to get into any arguments. I’m not good at them, especially not when I feel like I could turn from irritated to angry in the blink of an eye.” Castiel stepped away from the table and walked over to Dean. He put both of his hands on Dean’s shoulders. Dean hesitated but then he leant his forehead against Castiel’s stomach.

“That’s okay. We don’t have to argue,” he told him and ran his fingers though Dean’s hair.

* * *

 

The room Castiel chose was at the end of the hallway. They cleaned out the random boxes and shoved old furniture around all day. The room came with a bed and a desk and a chest of drawers. They were all in a shade of mint that Dean commented on in very unfavorable terms, but Castiel didn’t really have an opinion on it. They got in a lot more lights because the lack of windows here in the bunker sometimes pressed on Castiel’s mood. Castiel didn’t really have many possession put he put the key to his car, his mobile phone and his laptop on the desk with a sense of pride. Maybe it was borrowed, but this was the first time he really had a place for himself, next to the short lived angelic commando center which he would rather not think about anymore.

“Okay then, it still looks terrible but what the hell,” Dean pronounced and put something on Castiel’s drawer. It was a little wooden statue with some mosaic stones embedded on the base. “It said in the archives that it’s a byzantine figure of an angel.” When Castiel smiled Dean flustered in sudden embarrassment. “Just in case the baby needs another angel watching over them.”

“Thank you, Dean. That’s… sweet of you.” Dean cringed at that. Castiel grinned at him. Castiel turned away to fold the clothes that Dean had given him, aware that Dean’s eyes were still on him. Dean was leaning against the dresser, silent, but he knew that he was working himself up to say something. A heavy feeling started to creep into the air. Alerted, Castiel turned away from his task to inquire what was wrong before the mood would tip over. “Dean?”

“What about the kid, Cas?” The question surprised Castiel and it was too broad to actually answer.

“What about it?” he asked.

“I mean, where will the nursery be? Here in the Bunker? Where will the kid grow up?” Dean rapped his knuckles against the concrete wall. “I mean it’s not necessarily a nice place for a child.” Castiel didn’t argue even though Castiel though the Bunker was home in ways Heaven had never been.

“I haven’t really thought about that yet,” Castiel told him. “I assumed that I would give birth here but I haven’t thought beyond that.” Dean narrowed his eyes and Castiel suppressed a sigh.

“And why not? How can you not think about that?” he challenged. “This kid’s got to come out there eventually and then it’s going to grow up.” Dean lifted his hands, one palm facing up so he could count items off his fingers. “You’ve got to worry about daycares and babysitters. There’s baby food to consider and child safety. The Bunker’s not exactly a safe space.”

“But the Bunker’s got you,” Castiel interjected and that got Dean to widen his eyes and falter.

“Yeah well, that won’t really help much,” he protested and Castiel remained silent. He knew that Dean didn’t want him to say anything. “In either case, this kid’s got to go to Kindergarten and school after that. You’ve got to attend parent and teacher meetings. We need to send them to college, hell we should have opened a college fund two months ago. You know what I’m getting at here?” There was something dark in Dean’s eyes and Castiel wasn’t sure how to interpret it. Maybe Dean was frustrated, or maybe he was just angry. Castiel let his gaze fall to Dean’s arm and saw him tense immediately. Dean dropped his arm and pressed it to his side, hiding the Mark even though it was already covered by his sleeve. “We need to build a whole web of lies, Cas. Because here?” He made a vague gesture to the space around him. Then he pointed first at Cas and then at his own chest. “Us? There’s no normalcy for people like us!” Castiel leant back against the drawer, unsure how Dean wanted him to react. This vague concept of normalcy, whatever it might entail, either meant a lot to Dean or Dean was looking for something to get angry about. Maybe both. Castiel was familiar with the different forms of Dean’s anger and sadly, he was also becoming familiar with what the Mark put into Dean’s head.

But he didn’t want to fool himself into believing that there was no truth in what Dean said. His child would need a future, one that wasn’t entirely shaped by this dark, windowless rooms, full of old magic and the stale miasma of curses locked away. Almost unconsciously his hand wandered to his stomach, but somehow his worry about his child’s future was far removed and distant. Truth to be told, Castiel had not thought about a future because he didn’t know if there was one. He chose to believe that the child would make it through, but his own fate was less secure. He didn’t have the leisure to enjoy his pregnancy or to let himself dream of a future in which he had a family. In which he would have to go to parent-teacher meetings and teach his child how to tie their shoes. He could feel sadness spread inside him and tickle at his eyes. He didn’t want that though. There was no point in crying over things he had not yet lost.

“Maybe that is something we should worry about later,” Castiel suggested, his voice coming out a bit rough. Dean looked at him oddly, suspicion replacing his anger. It was almost as if he could guess that there was something behind Castiel’s words that he wasn’t telling him. Castiel cleared his throat. “Sam said that we should tackle one thing at a time. And right now the child’s birth is still more than three months away.” He watched how Dean reacted to that, how his nostrils flared when he took a sharp breath and huffed it out again. How his hands formed to fists at his side. In the end he nodded and turned away. Castiel was left alone in his new room, Dean’s footsteps in the corridor a mere hollow echo.

* * *

 

From that moment on Dean just became more edgy. And the more Dean’s mind was laden with worry, the more irritated he was. Having their own rooms didn’t really improve Dean’s mood much and the nights that Cas didn’t sleep in Dean’s bed, he was drawn to his side anyway because Dean shouted in his sleep, plagued by nightmares as it was.

“Maybe you have to take the edge off,” Sam suggested after Dean came into the main room sweaty from a rigorous work-out. Apparently that caught him off-guard and by the wide eyed, confused look Dean shot both him and Sam, Castiel assumed that Sam might have chosen a better moment. “I have a hunt, not too far away, nothing fancy.” Dean tossed his towel onto the table, disrupting some files Castiel had been reading. He looked angry, but most of all Dean looked worried.

“I’m not sure that violence will make me feel less violent,” he said dryly. Sam shrugged helplessly and Dean’s eyes swept over to Cas.

“I will stay here. I will be safe,” he promised and he saw how Dean’s shoulder slumped in defeat. “If it doesn’t make you feel better to hunt, then come back.” Dean nodded.

“Keep your phone charged,” he commanded once they were in the garage, the trunks loaded. Sam was already sitting in the car. “If anything weird happens, and I also mean baby weird, call. Okay?”

“Of course, Dean,” Castiel assured him and Dean seemed insecure, but in the end he pulled his hands out of his pockets and put his arms around Cas. He pulled him close and Castiel could feel how his stomach pressed against Dean. It felt warm and comfortable. He felt protected. Dean didn’t let the hug go on for too long, clearing his throat and pulling back. He pressed a kiss to Castiel’s forehead and then a quick one to his lips.

“See you tomorrow, babe.” Castiel smiled at him and then widened his eyes in surprise when Dean hesitatingly reached out his hand and pressed the tips of his fingers to Castiel’s stomach. “You too, kiddo.” A fluttering warmth spread inside of Castiel’s belly. While Dean touched him often now, gently or firmly, sometimes even roughly when they were in the mood, he hadn’t really acknowledged the child yet. Not like this. When Castiel hummed happily and he showed Dean a smile, the shy touch of fingertips turned to his palm cradling the bump.

“See you tomorrow, Dean,” Castiel said and leant in to press another kiss to Dean’s mouth. He could feel Dean’s lips form into a smile. Sam cleared his throat and Dean broke away from the kiss with a groan.

“If kissing is a better therapy than torching bones then by all means,” Sam teased. Dean rolled his eyes. He gave Castiel’s waist a squeeze and then he stepped away. Castiel watched Dean get into the car, casting a glance back just before starting the motor, and then they drove out of the garage, the doors closing behind them slowly.

* * *

 

Being alone in the Bunker felt far less oppressive this time. He still walked the corridors with light steps, feeling a bit out of place and foreign. Maybe that would never change. When Dean was with him he usually felt that at least he was wanted here. However, the Bunker was built as a fortress against supernatural creatures and Castiel, even broken as he was and with the faint glow of a human soul inside of him, felt the magic chafe against his skin.

He tried to ignore it, focusing on the happy hum of the child and the task of cleaning. There wasn’t much for him to do since Dean was very meticulous about keeping the Bunker clean. He swiped the floors in the corridors and sorted through books. He also tried to do some research but in the end he had to admit to himself that he was bored. He pocketed his mobile phone and wallet and left the Bunker. He felt relief settle in his bones the moment his hair was messed up by the breeze coming in through his open windows. It was a clear day, slightly chilly and Castiel relished in the vibrations of his car. He knew where he was going this time and before long the Farm Teahouse came into view. The gravel crunched under his tires as he pulled into the small parking lot. There was another car parked there and once he went in he found some of the tables occupied. He stepped into the shop and waved at the woman behind the counter. She seemed to recognize him and waved back. Castiel approached the shelf with the regional honey.

“We’ve just restocked. If you’re staying maybe I can encourage you to try how well it goes with our pancakes!” the woman called and Castiel liked the sound of that. He nodded and grabbed a jar of honey. He was wondering whether Dean would like pancakes with honey when he noticed something odd in the air. At first it had just felt like a vague, faint scent that lingered in the air, but once Castiel had caught on to it, it seemed to grow, become more distinct. Not just a scent, it was an aura of sorts. He frowned and looked around, trying to pinpoint the source of it. It felt… powerful. He couldn’t say if it was malicious. It was like an echo or an imprint of something powerful that had passed this shop. It was not a spirit and not a demon. All the people in the show were human, oblivious to what Castiel was picking up on.

“You’re okay there, sweetie?” Castiel turned back to the counter, where the woman was eying him with some amusement. Castiel turned away from the shelf and approached the counter. It had probably just been something that passed this place by, travelling along the road. Castiel tried not to worry about it too much. Nothing dangerous was lurking in this place.

“Yes. I wondered if my boyfriend likes honey on pancakes too,” he said and since it was only half a lie, it rolled off his tongue relatively easy. The woman’s eyebrow quirked up. “He likes to pretend that the only dessert he eats is pie.”

“You should bring him along one of these days. I’m sure we’ll find something that’ll make him reconsider this stance,” she said with a wink. “Now go take a seat and I’ll bring you your pancakes and a cup of tea in no time.” Castiel nodded, paying for the honey and the food, then he sat down. The atmosphere in the room was lively and agreeable, but Castiel couldn’t quite shake the worry. The echo didn’t fade. It pooled around his feet, clung to his clothes and slipped into his lungs with every breath he took. Whatever creature had come past here, it probably knew that Castiel had become aware of it. He pulled out his mobile phone, unsure if he should ask Dean for advice. It wasn’t like he was able to do anything and while the power in the echo made Castiel shiver, there was really nothing aggressive about it. He had hoped that Dean might have sent him a text, but his phone was dark. Maybe he should just let it be. Avoid this place in the future, if necessary.

It would be a shame though, Castiel mused as he bit into his pancake. He really liked coming here.

* * *

 

Dean came home reeking of death.

He seemed to be calm and joked with Sam when he came into the Bunker, tossing his duffle bag on the table. There didn’t seem to be any injuries on either of the Winchesters. They were experienced hunters and the case Sam had chosen for them had been hardly challenging. Still, Castiel was rooted to the spot, standing just outside the room. He could hear Dean’s laughter ring through the air, loud and easy, but when he looked at him, there seemed to be a flickering aura of darkness around him, pressing down on him. A dark halo of smoke circled around his head, gone again when Castiel blinked.

“Babe! Hey!” Dean called and Castiel pulled his mouth into a smile. He was happy to see him but apparently he hadn’t been quick enough to mask his worry because Dean hesitated before he put his arms on him. He searched his eyes. “Everything okay?”

“Are you okay?” Castiel asked instead of answering and felt Dean’s fingers dig into his shoulders for a second, before he forced the tension out of his body. He laughed and patted Castiel’s shoulders before he pulled him in for a hug and a quick kiss to his forehead.

“Sure! Not a single scratch. I don’t even know if I should be offended that Sam chose such an easy case,” he said. “Like I’m needing training wheels or something to ease me back into the hunting life.” The last part he had said louder, so that his voice carried to where Sam was rummaging through his back. Sam huffed. “Seriously, I’m fine. What about you? Junior giving you any trouble?”

“Not at all,” Castiel answered gently, aware of the fact that Dean didn’t want to talk about the effects of the Mark now. “Unless you consider the fact that my clothes are becoming uncomfortably tight trouble.” Dean laughed and put his arm around Castiel.

“Well, you are almost 6 months along, I suppose that’s to be expected.”

“You’re relatively small though,” Sam commented, not looking up from his laptop. Castiel wondered what Sam was doing. Maybe he had also picked up on the traces of darkness that clung to Dean and didn’t want to waste any time doing research.

“Yeah, what’s that about? Is that something to worry about?” Dean wondered and pressed his hand to Castiel’s stomach. It was a warm and gentle touch and Castiel instantly leaned into the comfort of it. “Should we try to find some hunter friendly doctor? I’m sure someone knows someone who could get you an ultrasound.”

“Dean, I’m an angel. I don’t need an ultrasound machine to know what’s going on inside this body,” Castiel admonished, slightly amused when he saw Dean frown at him.

“I think what Dean’s trying to say is that he’d like to see a pic of his kid, just to know that everything’s alright,” Sam helpfully added and Castiel could see Dean’s ears color at that, his displeased expression now directed at Sam.

“Oh.”

“Don’t listen to Sam, Cas. It’s no big deal. If you say everything’s alright, then I believe you,” Dean told him and Castiel nodded slowly. Sam seemed to look amused and almost smug, but Castiel had no time to ponder this, because Dean grabbed a hold of his arm and pulled him away. They made their way to Dean’s bedroom and Dean undressed, getting out of boots and stiff jeans, rolling his shoulders and falling into bed with a sigh once he wore only a shirt and sweatpants.

“You’re… tense.” Castiel observed eventually and Dean cracked an eye open. Castiel slowly climbed on the bed and lay down besides Dean. Dean turned his head to his side, a frown marring his brow.

“Dude, I’m super relaxed,” he said defensively. Soon his expression changed. “I mean I could do with a blow job?”

“Dean,” Castiel said sternly and Dean sighed, dropping his grin. At once Castiel felt like the room become just a fraction darker, the air heavier. Dean was staring up at the ceiling and rubbed at the Mark that peeked out from underneath the short sleeve of his shirt.

“It didn’t help. Killing things I mean. Yes, it did make me feel better for a short while, but torching bones? That’s not what it wants.” His palm closed around the Mark, covering it. “It’s like tremors under my skin, dude. And I’ve done this before… I know that the Mark is getting stronger and I know that in the end there’s nothing we can do about it…” Dean shifted until he was lyingon his side. He looked at Castiel with soft eyes. He lifted his hand and cradled Castiel’s cheek. Castiel closed his eyes, sighing at the feeling of Dean’s warm palm and how his thumb brushed the corner of his mouth. Slowly the palm travelled down, past his jaw and his throat, to his shoulder, along his arm, to his waist until it slipped down to rest against Castiel’s stomach.

“I think I can keep it together,” Castiel heard Dean say. He didn’t know what to reply, so he inched forwards until his nose bumped against Dean’s and his lips found his mouth, still with his eyes closed. Dean’s lips were soft and responsive, his fingers caressing his stomach. Castiel wrapped his arms around Dean’s neck. He could feel how the angry, violent tremors inside of Dean rebelled against the gentle touch. But then the tension bled out of Dean and the darkness retreated, drawing back into the burning red mark on Dean’s arm.

“I know you’re strong enough,” Castiel whispered, “you won’t lose your humanity.” Dean remained silent and Castiel made sure to pull him just a bit closer and to wrap his arms around him a bit more securely.

* * *

 

It was just before seven when Castiel woke up. The room was dark, just some specks illuminating the room. It was very silent, Dean breathing deeply and evenly, not disturbed by nightmares or even the influence of the Mark. Castiel pressed a kiss to Dean’s chest, but Dean continued sleeping. Castiel carefully got out of bed and wrapped his robe around his frame, careful not to tie the knot around his stomach too tight. He opened and closed the door behind him without causing Dean to stir once. It was rare that Dean got some quiet hours of sleep, so it was best not to wake him. Castiel walked along the rather cool corridor, finding Sam sitting in the kitchen, looking like he rolled out of bed mere moments ago and would prefer to still be there. His hair was fluffed up and all over the place and his eyes drooped.

“Good morning.” Sam gave a start and almost wiped his cereal bowl off the table. When Castiel sat down in front of him, Sam had calmed down again, rubbing his face with his palms.

“Ugh, morning.”

“Have you even slept last night?” Castiel wondered, eying the stack of paper next to Sam’s elbow. Sam gave a weak huff of laughter. “You should try to sleep. Dean wouldn’t like it if you fainted from exhaustion.”

“Are you trying to mother me?” Sam asked with some amusement.

“Maybe?” Castiel answered and Sam shook his head, laughing gently. “I don’t know if there’s anything in the books about the Mark…”

“Yeah…” Castiel watched Sam listlessly swirl his spoon in the cup of coffee. The silence was heavy but Castiel didn’t have any easy answers for Sam. He got up from the table and went to the fridge to make sandwiches. Maybe it wasn’t pancakes, but he was still happy to put a plate of sandwiches on the table for them. Sam smiled at him and took one.

“Hey Cas,” he started after a while and Castiel looked up from his food. “Is there no way that you can ask angels for advice? Maybe Metatron knows something.” Castiel frowned, which seemed to instantly discourage Sam.

“There might be information available and if there’s anyone who knows something it would be Metatron and the Archangels. It’s not possible to talk to Lucifer since communication with the Cage takes the slaughter of innocent people as a toll…” Sam shook his head.

“No… No, that’s not something I want to do,” he told him and Castiel nodded. “But Metatron?” Castiel sighed and folded his hands on top of the table.

“He’s probably our best shot, but I’m worried about facing the angels now in my condition.” He saw Sam shake his head in confusion. “Nephilim are not something angels appreciate. They’re forbidden abominations.”

“Well, you also called _me_ an abomination and I suppose I’m not all that bad,” Sam tried to joke and Castiel’s mouth quirked up into a smile.

“That’s true and between you and your brother, you’re certainly less of a trouble maker lately.” Sam laughed at that, shaking his head in delight.

“Yeah… That’s true,” he answered eventually and smiled. “But I get it. Once you had your baby you might contact Metatron though?”

“I suppose so,” Castiel agreed and Sam rubbed his chin. Castiel could see the worry return to Sam’s eyes. “Sam, I’m sure Dean will hold out three more months.”

“But what if not? Before he…” Sam swallowed heavily. “Last time,” he amended, “he went from okay to very bad in a short amount of time. I don’t know if we can afford to wait three months.”

“I didn’t mean to suggest that we sit around and wait, just that it might not be wise to alert Heaven to what I’m going through,” Castiel explained and Sam gave a quick nod.

“Well, Crowley’s also off the table. I’m sure if he knew about the baby he’d find a way to use it against us,” Sam mused. Just the idea that Crowley could know about the baby sent protective anger through Castiel. He looked up from glaring at the sandwich, wondering what else they could do, when he heard Dean approach. A moment later he looked into the kitchen.

“What are you two girls gossiping about?” he asked when he came down the stairs. Castiel pointed towards the plate of sandwiches and Dean sat down next to him with a smile, when Sam got up to get him a cup of coffee.

“We just agreed that we don’t want either Crowley or Metatron to know about your kid,” Sam replied and Dean snorted.

“Hell no,” he growled. He didn’t say more on that and it was clear that putting Cas in the same room as either Metatron or Crowley had never been up to debate for Dean.

“Yeah well…,” Sam hedged and Dean lifted an eyebrow, his look challenging. Sam relented and turned to Castiel. “How are you doing anyway? You and the baby okay?” Castiel wasn’t particularly surprised by the turn the conversation took, but he still had to take a moment to consider the question.

“Everything seems to be alright. There’s a bit of tension in my lower body and it feels odd when the child moves, but that aside, we both seem to be doing well?” Dean studied him, still chewing his sandwich wordlessly, but then he put his hand on Castiel’s hip. He grabbed the fabric there and pulled up slightly, making Castiel rise out of his chair.

“Hey Sam. Don’t you think Cas has been… widening slightly?” he asked and Castiel looked down at him in confusion. Sam laughed.

“Dude, he’s pregnant. It would be more worrisome if he weren’t,” he told Dean.

“No, I didn’t mean his stomach. His hips. Lift up your shirt a bit, babe,” he asked. Confused by what Dean was getting at, Castiel slowly lifted his shirt. He could see the taunt skin of his stomach, poking out over his pants. “They seem to be wider now? Like girl hips?” Sam was frowning, clearly not entirely comfortable at seeing this much of Castiel’s naked skin.

“I guess so?” he agreed and Castiel let his shirt drop, putting his hands against his hips instead. He supposed that it was true. He hadn’t even noticed anything apart from the nearly constant discomfort. “What would that mean?”

“It might be a sign that the child is not wrapped up in Grace. If my hips are wider now it could mean that my body adapts for the child’s physical body and weight. And also for birth. That would be ideal.”

“Yeah?” Dean asked, “but what if the baby is wrapped up in Grace?” Castiel shrugged and sat back down.

“Unfortunately I can only guess. I suppose that removing the child would mean that I would have to be cut open… Depending on where the child is located the cut would have to be very big. You’d have to remove the pocket of Grace with the child inside.” Castiel sighed. “And without Grace…”

“You’d die,” Sam continued when Castiel failed to finish. He nodded.

“What?!” Dean demanded, his voice rough and angry. “Jesus Christ, Cas! Why haven’t you said anything about that?!” Castiel turned to him, finding Dean’s face pale apart from his cheeks, which were red from barely repressed anger.

“Because there’s nothing that you or I can do,” he said gently and Dean groaned. He had his elbows propped up on the table and was now massaging his forehead. Castiel hated to see the helplessness gnaw at Dean and he felt sorry for not telling him, even if it would have been pointless to do it. “Dean… the pregnancy is risky, but it’s been keeping me alive.”

“But Cas, damn it…” Dean said hoarsely, even though the rest of his sentence remained unsaid. Castiel knew to read the silence. Eventually Dean spoke again: “You could have shared this burden with me.”

“I know… But I was afraid, Dean… It’s not something I wanted to think about,” Castiel replied and put his hand on Dean’s back, hoping that it provided a small comfort.

“What about best case scenario though?” Sam said gently and when Castiel looked up he could see an encouraging smile on Sam’s lips. He was grateful for Sam trying to distract Dean from the possibility of Castiel’s death. “What will happen if the kid’s born via C-section?”

“I suppose it would either leave its nest behind or take the Grace with it, leaving me human. But in either case, my chance to survive the birth would be just like any human woman’s. Maybe better if the Grace stays inside me because I could heal myself,” Castiel explained though he wasn’t actually sure how probable that was. “This child has a soul, so it’s likely that it has no use for Grace.”

“That’s good, right?” Sam said and he looked to Dean. “Dean’s that’s good.”

“Yeah,” he replied absently, but his dark look didn’t really lighten up. Castiel didn’t exactly expect it to, he knew that Dean would need a while to come to terms with this new information. Castiel rubbed his back and pressed a gentle kiss to his temple.

“It’ll be fine, Dean. We’ll get through this,” he promised, trying to put all the faith he still called his own into this one hope. He wanted to survive. The thought almost took him by surprise. Before, he had only wanted not to die, but now he actually wanted to live. He wanted to hold this child in his hands on day, he wanted to have a family with Dean and Sam. He wanted that for once, one good thing could happen to Dean. He pressed another kiss to Dean’s cheeks, a warm feeling of gratefulness spreading inside of him. Maybe the hope was slim in this dark situation, but he had it. He wanted it. Dean turned towards him, uncertainty in his eyes.

“I want to get through this, Dean,” he told him and Dean gave a tentative nod of his head.

“Okay,” he said and then his eyes took on a look of resolve. A small smile pulled at his mouth. “Okay, Cas.” He leant forwards and pressed his mouth to Castiel’s.

“Ugh, guys… Keep that to your room,” Sam commented but it was a half-hearted complaint and Castiel could hear his faint smile in his voice.

* * *

 

In the days that followed, Dean had a new focus. He was clearly agitated and more than once Castiel had to put all the books away from Dean’s bed so that there was space for them to sleep. But the research went into a different direction now. They were just running in circles when it got to the Mark of Cain, they all knew it, but there was something else Dean could do.

Castiel eyed the books on the table Dean had claimed for himself.

“Fertility spells, pagan rituals, old medical texts, healing magic,” Dean said, pointing to the respective piles of huge tomes. “I even found some sort of magical fertility dildo in a curse box but I’m not touching that.”

“Magical dildo, really, Dean?” Sam commented flatly, from behind his laptop, eying the pile with suspicion.

“Hey, we’ve found those vintage Busty Asian Beauty magazines. Those old geezer wanted some fun too, right?” Dean said with a grin. “Maybe you could get the dildo, you’ve been a bit tense lately. When’s the last time you got laid anyway?”

“Eat me, Dean,” Sam said with an annoyed snort. Dean sent his brother a lews smile, then he turned back towards Castiel.

“I think we might find something here to make sure that you get through this ordeal alive. You and your kid. Would be a shame if you didn’t get to hold the kid, right?” he asked and Castiel smiled.

“I would like to hold them, yes… And worry about daycare and parent teacher meetings and college funds with you.” Maybe it was a bit daring to suggest that Dean would be helping him after all, but Dean laughed at the idea, ducking his head slightly. He seemed pleased and that gave Castiel more hope.

“I still can’t believe you two are going to be parents,” Sam said with a smile, then he turned back to his own research. “But Dean, we can’t really forget about the Mark just because you focus on something else.”

“I know,” Dean said, the smile slipping off his lips. “But I’m not going to get better and we don’t know if there is anything to do about it. So I’d rather focus on something I _can_ do. You try to save me and I’ll try to save Cas.” He turned the page of his book with a bit more force than necessary. “Seems like a good deal to me.”

“I think Dean’s right… That’s probably the best we can do right now,” Castiel agreed even though Sam didn’t look particularly happy about the fact that Dean would put his focus on something else than his own problems. But Castiel wouldn’t stop trying to look for help. Metatron nor Crowley would be able to help him now and even if they could, he didn’t want their help and put himself in a dangerous situation. No, there was something else he could do. Heaven and Hell weren’t the only places that he could turn to. Castiel’s eyes were focused on the Mark, the tip of it just visible underneath Dean’s rolled up sleeves.

He would have to find Cain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! ♥
> 
> (I've sneaked in a reference to one of my verses. If you're familiar with my art, you might have caught it! ;D)


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is quite a bit shorter than the last one even though I made you wait for over a month. I hope you'll still enjoy it!

The clutter in Castiel’s room grew, slowly, but it did. Next to the old figurine Dean put a jar on his nightstand with some musty smelling incense that was supposed to increase fertility. Castiel doubted that, at this point, his fertility was an issue they had to worry about, but he allowed it. Just like he allowed the frequent teas Dean handed him that apparently were good for pregnant women.

“Not a woman,” Castiel argued with some amusement.

“Not a dude either,” Dean reminded him, “you’ve got a womb, probably, so you can take care of it.” Next to that Dean put books in his room, a vase with flowers that changed every time Dean or Sam went out to buy something. Little trinkets and bigger trinkets.

“He’s just extending his nesting to your room,” Sam told him silently when Dean was grumbling about the content of Castiel’s wardrobe.

“Is that normal?” Castiel asked and Sam laughed. It wasn’t like Castiel was bothered by what Dean was doing. He liked that Dean was keeping busy, even if all he did was making Cas feel slightly dizzy with the gently humming magic of the fertility potions and spells.

“For Dean it is. He likes taking care of people.” Dean glared at the two over his shoulder.

“You know I can hear you guys,” he complained and then he straightened. He turned around to Cas, holding up socks with more holes than fabric. “You really need more clothes, dude.”

“I know I do,” Castiel replied, turning slightly to the side to look at himself in the small mirror. He was wearing old clothes of Sam and Dean by now. Only a week had passed since Dean had started to make Castiel’s pregnancy his number one concern, but he felt like he had gained more weight than Dean’s strict dietary plan warranted. The discomfort in his lower body hadn’t let up yet but Castiel was determined to bear it without complaint. They had decided that it was a good sign and Castiel didn’t want to be ungrateful that his body knew how to handle this unexpected event.

“Well, me and Sam have to go get some stuff tomorrow, so I might as well pick up some things for you,” Dean said and closed the drawer loudly.

“And I can’t come with you?”

“It’s easier for me to pretend to get clothes for my girlfriend,” Dean explained and quickly lifted his hands when Castiel’s expression changed into a frown, “no offense, but pregnant dudes aren’t exactly common.”

“Fine,” Castiel said after a while and leant back against the wall. The room seemed very crowded with all of them standing around in it. “I meant to go back to that coffee shop anyway.” Dean lifted an eyebrow at that and then his eyes dropped down to Castiel’s stomach. “Very little has changed since I was last there. I doubt they will ask questions.”

“But you can have tea in here as well,” Dean argued weakly.

“I’d like to breathe fresh air and see the sunlight on occasion,” Castiel shot back and that made Dean sigh in defeat. Sam thought it best to leave them alone now that tomorrow’s plans were finalized and Dean continued to run his hands over the objects in Castiel’s room.

“It still looks terrible in here.”

“It doesn’t smell particularly inviting either,” Castiel said, teasing. Dean huffed in amusement and sat down on Castiel’s bed. He made a grimace almost immediately when he sunk in a bit further than he was used to. “It’s not memory foam.”

“Yeah, it’s crap. You’re supposed to sleep with me anyway. Until you get too bulky and I’ll have to kick you out,” Dean joked and Castiel stepped closer to the bed, examining a book that Dean had brought him. It was on pregnancy. Castiel wasn’t surprised even though the books on human, female pregnancy were hardly going to help him. He had already gotten through 6 months of this without a manual after all. But apparently they gave Dean a semblance of control so he read them in order to make Dean feel better. “Not that I would kick my boyfriend out of bed…”

“Well,” Castiel said and put the book down, stepping closer to Dean until he could lower himself down on Dean’s lap. “That’s a relief.” Dean chuckled and pressed his hands to Castiel’s back, partially to steady him and partially to feel the warm skin underneath the thin shirt.

“Let’s just hope all this stuff helps you and junior in there,” Dean said and Castiel was slightly surprised by the turn the conversation took. When he looked at Dean he found that there was still a smile on Dean’s lips, but it wasn’t genuine.

“Yes, thank you for taking care of us,” Castiel told him and pressed a kiss to Dean’s forehead. Dean wrapped his arms around Castiel’s back and squeezed.

“Yeah.”

* * *

 

The morning was pleasant when they said good-bye. Dean kissed him a couple of times, gently, almost reverently. Now that Dean was getting used to Sam knowing, something had changed in how he kissed and held and touched. Castiel relished it, even though sometimes they were subjected to Sam’s teasing.

“We won’t be gone for too long. You sure you’ll be fine on your own?” Dean asked when he got into the car, looking out of the window. Castiel put his hand on top of the door frame and smiled down into the car.

“The drive isn’t even an hour. I will manage,” he told him kindly and then he nodded to Sam. “I will bring some pie with me.”

“Yeah. Keep your phone close, I might send you some pics of clothes,” Dean said, reaching out of the window to pat Castiel’s stomach. “Something that hopefully doesn’t stretch that much.” Castiel huffed. Dean’s expression changed from playful to slightly worried and he looked up. “What if someone notices... _Something_. We don’t know where Crowley or the angels have their eyes and ears.”

“I will be careful,” Castiel promised and pulled the trench coat closed. “And it’s not visible like this.” Dean scrunched up his nose, apparently still not entirely pleased, but Sam decided that was enough worrying for the moment.

“Dude, he’s an angel. He’ll be fine for a couple of hours. He’ll just go drink some tea, enjoy some alone time,” he told Dean who just grunted as if the idea of Cas needing time away from the brothers – especially Dean – didn’t please him at all. It probably didn’t.

“Sam’s right. If anything happens-“

“Also baby related,” Dean interrupted. Castiel sighed with a smile on his lips.

“Yes. If anything _at all_ happens, I’ll call you. I promise.” Dean shot him another look, his fingers on the key hesitating. But after a moment he nodded and turned the key.

“See you later, Cas,” Dean said and then they drove down the uneven road. Castiel watched them take a turn and then he pulled his own key out of his pocket. He studied it for a while, wondering if he should be feeling slightly guilty about what he was about to do.

He didn’t expect to run into trouble, otherwise he wouldn’t have gone alone, but he didn’t only want to leave for a cup of tea. Cooped up inside the Bunker it was difficult to gather information about the Father of Murder’s whereabouts. Castiel drummed his fingers on the roof of his car. Dean wouldn’t be pleased, especially since Sam was only partially right. Yes, Castiel was an angel, but he couldn’t rely on his Grace. But that didn’t make him weak. He was still a soldier.

Castiel nodded to himself and then he got into the car.

* * *

 

It was an educated guess that brought Castiel back to the farm tea room. The presence that he had felt there wouldn’t leave his mind. He made sure that the swell of his stomach was satisfactorily hidden so as not to arouse suspicion, and then he stepped away from the car. He was tense as he looked around the empty street and the small, gravel parking space. There was another car there and a bicycle but he couldn’t feel that presence anymore. His guess that it had just passed by on the street seemed to be reaffirmed.

He sighed and entered the store. The almost familiar scent of coffee and baked goods greeted him, but there was also something else, something that took notice of Castiel. It seemed to slide out of the shadows, curious, but not malicious. Castiel shivered and then let his instinct lead him straight to the honey. The woman at the counter chuckled but he only heard her dully, like there was a rush in his ears. He pulled a jar off the shelf, feeling it tingle in his fingers. The energy was familiar to him, dark, fragrant. Old.

“Do you know where this honey comes from?” Castiel asked, turning towards the counter. The woman looked at him in surprise. Castiel wondered if that was not a good question to ask. “I’m interested in beekeeping,” he added, hoping that this would sound better. The woman at least smiled and continued wiping down the counter.

“Yes. We get it from Cain Mullen, he’s the one collecting the honey. It’s a local business,” she explained and Castiel’s grip on the jar tightened. He carefully put it back and nodded. “So, what will it be today?”

“Nothing,” he answered and the woman at the counter frowned in confusion. “For now, I mean,” Castiel stuttered and then he pulled his phone out of his pocket. “I’ll be right back. I just have to make a phone call.” She waved at him and he quickly left the building.

He had a lead on Cain and he was sure that it wouldn’t be difficult to find out where he lived now that he had a name. He felt his heart thrum a nervous rhythm in his chest. He wasn’t afraid, but still his body reacted in an unsettling way. He knew that it would be foolish to follow this lead without any backup. Cain was potentially lethal even for angels, especially angels in a vulnerable state, even though he would probably be alright if Cain didn’t have the First Blade or an angel blade. Still, he had no Grace to spare for a fight with the Father of Murder. He dialed Dean’s number.

 _“Yeah?”_ Hearing Dean’s voice made him feel better, distant as it was.

“Dean? I’m at the tea room and I think… I think I might have found Cain,” Castiel said and looked down the road. A couple of cars were driving on the road now, but it was still quiet. Idyllic almost with the fields on the other side of the street seemingly stretching into infinity. He turned away from the road when he heard Dean’s sharp inhale of breath. He heard the light beep of the phone which made him guess that he was put on speaker phone.

_“What do you mean, you found Cain?”_

“Not him directly, but a trail. The honey they sell here is his. Cain Mullen. I asked because I felt some energy echo in the tea room,” Castiel explained.

 _“Do you know where he lives_?” Sam asked.

 _“Sam! He’s got to get out of there as fast as possible! He’s in no condition to fight the fucking Father of Murder!”_ Dean hissed and Sam muttered something in reply that Castiel didn’t catch. The crunch of gravel made Castiel turn around, but the parking lot was empty. He frowned.

 _“You can’t be sure it’s the real Cain, right? He’s in hiding, right?”_ Dean suggested and Castiel felt a shiver go down his spine. He wanted to reply but then he looked over his shoulder and saw a man standing next to him. For a moment Castiel couldn’t make out his human features, because he saw nothing but darkness staring back at him, with flashes of pulsating red streaking through the vaguely human shaped form.

“No… It’s definitely Cain,” Castiel managed to say and watched as the vision faded to show him Cain’s human face. He seemed amused, but not hostile.

“Hello Castiel,” he greeted.

“I… I’ll call you back,” Castiel said, cutting off whatever Dean and Sam had been saying. He put his mobile phone in his pocket and faced Cain. He smiled at him and then he nodded his head towards a car.

“How about I invite you for a cup of tea? Then we can talk.” Castiel was unsure how to react but he doubted that there was any point in refusing Cain’s offer.

“I have my own car,” Castiel said and Cain looked over his shoulder at Castiel’s car.

“Not very environmental friendly, is it?” he wondered with a hint of amusement in his voice that Castiel didn’t know how to place. “But fine. Follow me then,” he said and without another word he turned away and got into his car. Castiel was too stunned to move but the sound of the motor forced him to move from his spot. He still debated just driving away but it didn’t seem like Cain wanted to fight him. If Cain really wanted to talk, then it might be a good idea to listen. Even if Castiel wanted to flee, he felt the insistent pull of that presence he had chased. So he followed him at a slow pace, trying to keep his mind calm so that he could figure out a strategy if he had to fight or flee. He knew that he stood little to no chance in a fight now that he had no proper Grace to wield. His body was vulnerable even though a demon shouldn’t be able to kill an angel. He knew spells to trap a demon even without a devil’s trap. He’d have to rely on that and escape if it came to a confrontation.

Cain’s car slowed down and then he turned off the main street into a roughly paved track through fields and shrubbery. Castiel could see a little house in the distance. The ground beneath the tires turned from pavement to gravel and soon he slowed to a stop. Cain was getting out of his car and pulled a bag out of the trunk, then he waited. Castiel grabbed his phone and then he got out of the car. He made sure to pull the trench coat around him as a meagre protection, then he followed Cain to the house. Castiel looked up at it. It was old. Not in the way that it had been built centuries ago, but it had an energy about it that Castiel felt hard to place. The wood creaked beneath his feet and the fragrance that met his nose made him flinch at first. Cain himself had an old smell about him, the smell of when earth was younger, of fields and rain and rock and fur. It had seeped into the walls of this house, just like the darker waves of Cain’s power had. But a sweetness covered the scent of death.

“You done smelling the turf?” Cain’s voice made Castiel turn around sharply, feeling the weight of his blade in his palm, but he didn’t expose it. Cain was standing in the doorway, having taken off his jacket. There was a tray in his hands, laden with a tea pot and cups and what looked like cake. “I don’t mean you any harm. Here. Sit. Drink a cup of tea.” Castiel examined him, still tense, but in the end he let the blade disappear and he took a seat opposite Cain. He was handed a cup of.

“Thank you for your hospitality,” he said and drank. Cain chuckled at that.

“Manners. Unusual for an angel,” he teased though Castiel could hardly fault him for his observation. “Of course, the last time I had to deal with one of your lot, it was Lucifer.”

“Well, Lucifer is hardly a pleasant individual. He both insulted me and made me explode,” Castiel commented dryly. The Father of Murder huffed a laugh and then leant back in his armchair, pulling his tea to his chest. For a long time there was silence. Castiel knew that he was observing him, trying to study him. He kept calm and attempted to conceal the parts of himself that deserved to be protected. Otherwise he allowed the scrutiny.

“I assume that makes you special,” Cain said after a while, but Castiel didn’t react to that apart from moving his head to the side. “I do wonder about you. What you are exactly?” he continued. Castiel didn’t reply but Cain didn’t need to hear anything. He put the tea cup down. “You’re marked. Battered and broken apart and put back together wrong again. I can see that. But I can also feel Dean all over and inside of you.” Castiel tensed at that, the hold on his teacup tightening until his knuckles went white. He saw Cain’s eyes travel down to his hands and then even deeper to where his trench coat was bunched up in his lap.

“It’s odd, that I admit, but also somehow expected,” Cain said, his expression thoughtful. “Dean has always exceeded my expectations.”

“He does that,” Castiel told him, with a mix of pride and apprehension. Cain huffed and then he inched forwards in his seat a bit, hands folded between his knees. Again, Castiel was the focus of his piercing gaze. He felt his presence tickle his skin, but it wasn’t unpleasant even though he recoiled from the faint touch that carried this old taint. Cain could hurt him, but he chose not to.

“You seem to be doing well,” Cain continued and Castiel lifted his eyebrows in confusion. “You’re rounding out a bit, baby settling well in your womb.” Surprised, Castiel set the teacup back on the coffee table.

“How can you know that?” he said, trying to reign in the flickers of hope before he would be disappointed. “There’s no guarantee that this child and this body fit each other well.” Cain smiled at that, a genuine smile that made Castiel startle.

“Oh, I just know, Castiel,” he said, sounding very sure of himself. “I can see things grow and I can especially see if something will bear fruit or not. You remember that I was a farmer for a long time.” Castiel wasn’t quite willing to believe him yet, but he knew that Cain was telling the truth, or at least what he believed to be the truth. It was hard reading the man. “I’ve seen a lot in my years of wandering and destruction, but I must say that an angel in a vessel carrying a human’s offspring is… unusual.” Castiel couldn’t hold pack a small huff.

“Yeah.” Cain laughed and Castiel was presented with the tray of cake.

“Take some cake. And then we can talk some more. I know that you’ve been looking for me.” Castiel looked at Cain, but there was still no hostility in his expression, so he took a slice of cake. When Cain nodded at him he started eating. His tea was refilled and there was an easy silence between them in which Castiel had the time to look around again. Castiel still had close to no opinion on interior decoration, but there were stained glass windows depicting bee centric scenes that appealed to him and there were pictures on the walls and on the mantelpiece. Idly, Castiel wondered if Dean would feel comfortable in a house like this. When he had finished his cake he put away the plate and took a sip of his tea. After that he no longer wanted to delay this conversation. He looked at Cain, who lifted his hand at him in an inviting gesture.

“I’m looking for a cure for Dean,” Castiel said.

“I assumed as much. But you know, the cure doesn’t come easily. It’s a process. It’s like if you’re recovering from an addiction.” Castiel nodded. “It needs dedication. A calm surrounding. A network he can trust in so that he can trust in himself.”

“But you think it’s possible? That we can fix it?” Castiel asked, knowing that there was desperation in his voice. Cain studied him for a moment, in which Castiel felt tense, but then he nodded. Castiel slumped in relief and covered his face with his palm for a moment.

“Dean is much stronger than I was when I succumbed to the Mark. I was alone. Dean has you and his brother. The promise I made to my late wife and the quiet life I’ve created for myself here help me stay focused. I can probably not undo this curse, but I can wear it down and soften it.” Cain rolled up his sleeve and held his arm out to Castiel. Castiel was familiar enough with the sight of the Mark not to be disturbed by it. “I do believe that there’s a way to undo it, to remove it entirely.” He held the arm out to Castiel. “Feel it.” Castiel hesitated but in the end he put his palm on the mark, covering it entirely. A dark presence washed over him, prodding, testing. It was angry, old and hungry, but also sedated. Castiel wanted to pull his hand back but just before he did he also felt a familiar stab of something like electricity. A soft humming, muted and thwarted, but still resonating in the hollow cave where his Grace used to be.

“You felt it, right?” Cain asked when Castiel lifted his palm away. There was a fast fading imprint of the Mark on his palm, like a burn. Within seconds it was gone.

“Yes… The curse is angelic in origin. Distorted and wrong, but angelic.” Cain nodded. “You think that in the end an angel could undo it.”

“I do. But it might take years or centuries to get that far. You’re the only angel who was ever interested in speaking to me, and I know you’re mainly here for Dean. I don’t doubt that you’d be willing to figure out a cure, but… Well.” Here he shrugged and Castiel knew what he meant. He didn’t have the necessary Grace for this project. Neither to heal Dean nor to heal Cain. “So this is why resisting and muting the Mark is the best shot you have.”

“Dean has a home and Sam and me, but I still don’t think that he’s getting better. Maybe also because Sam is very worried about his progress. I feel he thinks Dean is ignoring the issue now that he’s focusing on how to make sure that I survive the birth.”

“You will survive the birth, don’t worry about that,” Cain told him dismissively. “Though the old magic rituals he uses will probably make you feel bettering during the process, so he doesn’t have to stop.”

“You could feel that on me?” Castiel asked in surprise and Cain nodded.

“The baby,” he started again. “I think that’s the key. If Dean chooses to nurture it, it would prove a good help to get him settled.” Castiel lowered his head at that, studying the folds in his trench coat that barely hid his stomach.

“I’m not sure Dean wants fatherhood,” he confessed. To his surprise, Cain snorted at that.

“Of course he doesn’t want it. He thinks that he will ruin everything he touches,” he said and then he reached out to pour himself some more tea. “But even with the Mark he can still create and nurture. I have my land and my bees. And he?” Cain looked up and nodded at Castiel. “He has you.” He took his teacup and rose from the armchair. “I now have to prepare dinner. If you want you can stay but I feel that you’re expected back.” Castiel rose as well, still slightly dazed by the conversation. His thoughts were rolling around in his head, hope and worry going hand in hand.

“Yes, I suppose so. Thank you.” Cain turned away and walked into the kitchen.

“Good-bye, Castiel. I assume we’ll see each other again,” he said, his voice carrying to where Castiel still stood, almost rooted to the floor. “And Dean should think about what I told you.” Castiel left silently when he heard the sound of food preparation from the kitchen. He got back into his car and checked his phone.

 _“You okay?”_ Dean had texted him only a couple of minutes ago. Castiel took a moment to simply sit in the familiar space of his car and let the last half hour pass through his mind. But Castiel wasn’t one to dwell on the weirdness of his encounters. Cain had let himself be found, he had suggested how to help Dean and given him good news. This was good. He had something good to report when he returned home. He smiled at the phone, trying to think what Dean’s reaction could be, after he probably shouted at him for being reckless.

“Yes. I’ll have to buy a pie and then I will return,” he texted before he put his key into the ignition. The phone vibrated almost immediately and he looked down at it before he started driving.

 _“Don’t worry about the pie, we’ll get one. You just come back.”_ Castiel smiled and sent one more text before he started the drive back:

“Okay ♥”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! ♥


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry about the two month wait! ;w;

Dean was there even before Castiel had the chance to kill his car’s engine. He looked nervous, his expression stern. Castiel knew that he wasn’t angry and that it was merely the expression he wore when he thought there was a problem that he needed to tackle.

“What happened?” he asked the moment Castiel opened the door. He gave him enough time to heave himself out of the seat, a task which Cas knew would become harder the heavier he felt with his child. Though his current tiredness wasn’t really the baby’s fault. Dean gave him a bit of space, but only until he was standing straight. Dean wrapped Castiel in a quick, but firm hug. “What happened?” he asked again, almost impatient.

“Dean,” Castiel said with a sigh. “Can I sit down first and pull off my shoes? My feet hurt.” Maybe it was trickery to exaggerate his discomfort merely to divert Dean’s stern worry for a moment. He knew that Dean would relent, which he did at once.

“Baby’s giving you trouble? Are you already at the swollen feet stage?” Dean asked lightly, with a small grin on his face. He turned away, seeming very pleased for some reason, and led Castiel through the corridor and towards the kitchen where a pie sat on the counter.

“I don’t know. I just know that my shoes are slightly uncomfortable,” he answered and looked around the kitchen before he took the couple of steps that led down into the room. “Where’s Sam?”

“I put him on laundry duty. He’s washing the clothes we got for you,” Dean explained and gave Castiel a gentle nudge so that he approached the table. Castiel sat down and was glad for the silence while Dean prepared him a cup of tea. Castiel had had time to let the conversation with Cain settle during the drive home. He wasn’t feeling particularly anxious about it, nor was he worried. As an angel he had seen many confrontations that could have ended up being lethal for him. He was probably too old and experienced to be impressed that he had a meeting with the Father of Murder and got away without a scratch. So, all things considered, he was calm, maybe even happy. He had good news to share after all.

“Why are you smiling to yourself?” Dean asked suspiciously when he sat down next to Castiel. “Something funny?”

“No, something good I’d say.” Dean’s frown was expected. He put a cup of tea and a slice of pie in front of Castiel, then he sat down and studied him.

“How come? You said you’ve got a lead on Cain. Is that your something good?” Dean asked and Castiel saw how he covered the mark with is palm, his fingers digging into the flesh.

“It was more than a lead. Cain found me,” Castiel said and he could see the effect the words had on Dean immediately. He paled, his expression becoming even sterner, worried and angry. “I couldn’t fly away and he invited me to have a conversation. Civilly.”

“And you just went with him?” Dean challenged and Castiel narrowed his eyes at him.

“You did the same, Dean. And I’m sure you’ve been far more confrontational about it than I was. Besides, do I have to remind you that I am still an angel and that I can still wield a sword to defend myself?” It was clear that Dean wanted to argue. “I was not in any danger. Cain did not intend to harm me.”

“Oh, is that supposed to make me feel better?” Dean snapped and stabbed his pie with his fork before he took a first, angry bite.

“Yes,” Castiel told him flatly. “And he was helpful. He…” Castiel stopped when he heard Sam’s footsteps. He supposed that Sam should hear this too, especially as it would give him an ally when it got to staving off Dean’s distrust. After a moment of shuffling by the door, probably trying to figure out if he would be interrupting something, Sam appeared in the kitchen.

“Hey Cas! I’m glad you’re back!” he said and then he looked at Dean’s expression. “Bad news?”

“No, I managed to speak to Cain and Dean disapproves. It’s not really surprising,” Castiel told him. Sam snorted, but then he sat down, interest and hope written all over his face.

“Is that so hard to understand? You’re pregnant. He’s freaking Cain! Of course I’m going to be worried!” Dean interjected and received a pat on the shoulder by Sam which made him groan. Castiel also reached out and covered Dean’s hand with his own.

“It’s not hard to understand, but there’s no point in being angry,” he said. Dean shook his head.

“Just don’t do it again,” he grumbled. “As long as you’re pregnant doing potentially dangerous shit is banned.”

“Alright,” Castiel agreed and Dean sighed deeply, but then he straightened and looked at him with an inquisitive expression.

“What did Cain tell you?” he asked.

“He said that he believes that there is a way to completely remove the mark,” Castiel started but lifted both his hands to dim down the hope he could see in both of the Winchester’s eyes. “But so far it’s only theory. As long as I have no Grace there is no way for him to test it.”

“Why?” Sam asked and shuffled a bit closer to the table, as if the conversation had to be held in hushed whispers. “Does it need Grace to undo it? There are angels who still have Grace in Heaven, maybe one of them could lend a hand?”

“Sam.” Dean’s tone was warning and Castiel saw Sam dart a confused look over to Dean.

“There aren’t many angels who would be willing to help the Father of Murder undo his curse… And most angels would probably not be willing to risk anything when I ask them for help. You saw how they were… And I think going to Heaven to beg for help, while pregnant with a human’s child would fall under ‘potentially dangerous shit’ Dean has banned just two minutes ago.”

“Damn right it does,” Dean said and glared at his brother. “Don’t do this, Sam. Don’t push.”

“Someone’s got to push!”

“Cain’s theory is,” Castiel continued, talking over the argument that was in the making, “that since the mark is angelic in origin, it can be undone by an angel as well. But he thinks it might take years, years Dean can spare since he is immortal of course, but he would go for trying to subdue the mark for the time being.” Dean’s expression shifted from guarded hope to frustrated within a short amount of time and Sam too was blinking at Castiel as if he had just spoken in tongues.

“That is good news,” he reminded them.

“Cas, we’ve been trying the subduing part and this so-called immortality comes with the catch that the mark will just make me demonic the moment it manages to poison me enough that I bite it,” Dean told him, but Castiel shook his head. “Cas.” He reached out and grabbed Dean’s hand.

“Cain says that you need to focus on me. Or… maybe not me, but the child. That you must relearn that your hands are made to protect and to create,” he told him. Dean winced at that, a small, pained sound that he didn’t manage to catch in time.

“That’s just poetic crap, Cas…! And besides, it’s not like things are exactly looking rosy for you,” Dean argued.

“Cain’s convinced that I will survive,” Castiel told him. “According to him the child has well settled in my womb, which means that things are going well.”

“And you trust that?” Dean argued, clearly unwilling to reach out to these flickers of hope.

“Yes I do,” Castiel told him firmly. “I am no longer a source of worry. I _will_ survive and the child _will_ survive.” Maybe it wasn’t wise to place his hope on what Cain had said, but he had no reason to lie to Castiel and… Castiel wanted it to be true, so he packed as much of his conviction and faith into his words. “If you want it, Dean, you’ll have a family. Soon.”

“That’s… that’s good!” Sam said when there was nothing but silence coming from Dean. Castiel was a bit unsure about the blank face he was seeing. Surely that should have made Dean feel something? He gave Dean’s hand a squeeze but apparently Sam was more versed in reading Dean because he laughed and reached over the table to clap Castiel on the shoulder. “I’m happy to hear that you’re out of the woods, Cas.”

“Thank you, I wasn’t looking forwards to dying,” he said and this actually got a reaction out of Dean. Even if it was only a snort.

“You sure about what Cain said?” he asked, avoiding Castiel’s eyes and looking at the uneaten pie at Castiel’s elbow instead.

“Yes I am…” Castiel could see the moment Dean really let the words sink in past his resistance. His harsh look softened and he sunk back in his chair slightly, giving Castiel’s hand a weak squeeze.

“What does Cain suggest? How can Dean best go against the influence of the mark?” Sam asked, putting a palm on Dean’s shoulder, a small support that Dean probably needed now. Castiel knew of Dean’s insecurities about fatherhood, he understood them, but if Cain believed that fatherhood was the best chance they had to subdue the mark then he would push for it.

“He says he has to nurture. He needs a stable surrounding, a network of people he can trust,” Castiel replied and that made Dean huff in disbelief.

“So what… What exactly am I supposed to do? Hang up my leather jacket and my gun, buy a house, fix it up? Be normal?”

“Yes. Yes maybe you should,” Castiel said and let go of Dean’s hand when he pulled it back, crossing his arms over his chest defensively.

“That’s not possible. I’m a hunter, I can’t just pretend I’m something else,” he argued, shaking his head slightly. At his side Sam heaved a big sigh but he didn’t say anything, instead he looked over at Castiel and lifted his eyebrows at him. Clearly Sam was going to keep out of this for a while, so that Castiel could make his case. Somehow he was feeling slightly intimidated by it, trying to convince Dean rarely went well and maybe it would have been nice to know what Sam thought.

“I don’t want you to pretend to be something else. I know that being a hunter was carved into you against your will and by long years of struggle,” Castiel started and looked into his palms which lay open on the table. He felt an urge to feel Dean’s warm palm against his own, to draw comfort from the soft touches of the one he loved. But right now it wasn’t Dean’s task to bring comfort to Castiel, so Castiel put his hands over each other and looked at Dean. Dean eyed him with wariness.

“Just a few days ago you argued with me about there being no normalcy to be found here. That this was not the kind of surrounding that our child should grow up in,” Castiel tried again, “maybe you’re right… Maybe we need to build all these things first. But I can’t do it alone, I don’t know anything about being a normal human parent…”

“Cas, I was just angry then, I didn’t mean-“

“No, you were right,” Castiel interrupted Dean, lifting his hand. “You were right, Dean. You’re a hunter and I’m… something.” He sighed. “We’re not normal. And I don’t think we can be, but I want to try to be what my child needs. And if that also helps you become better?” Castiel shrugged. “I will do my best.” Dean studied him, then he lifted his hands to his face, wiping his palms over his hair and resting them in the back of his neck.

“Shit.”

“It’s not impossible, Dean. If Cain could retire, so can you. And it’s not like you have to break ties with everything you’re familiar with. The Bunker will still be here and I’ll be here to keep the fort while you and Cas get all domestic,” Sam said and grinned at Dean. Dean looked over at him with a dubious expression. “If there’s a time to take a step back from hunting, this is it, right? Heaven’s in order, Hell is quiet… The world isn’t ending for once and you can finally focus on yourself. Heal a bit.”

“And you think I will do that by walking around in a robe and sandals and being a dad?” Dean snorted with a huff, but judged by Sam’s expression Dean had pretty much relented. Castiel felt some of the tension in his shoulders drain.

“To be honest, you do this too here,” he quipped and Dean rolled his eyes.

“Dean…?” Castiel asked into the silence that had fallen. Dean looked at him and while there wasn’t a smile on his face yet, he seemed calmer than before.

“Okay, Cas,” he said and Castiel felt something inside of him that had been twisted and painful slowly unravel. He smiled and got out of his chair so that he could lean over the table for a bit of an awkward hug. “Don’t get all mushy on me now, jeez, Cas,” Dean complained but he was still the one who strengthened his hold on Cas, his fingers digging into Castiel’s shoulders. There was a small quiver in his breathing, the soft air blowing against Castiel’s neck shivering.

* * *

 

The last time Dean gave up hunting, it had been like pulling off a band aid in how abrupt it had been. Or maybe, if Castiel thought back to it, it would be more fitting to say that trying to live a normal life had been like putting a small band aid over a deep wound. That time after the averted apocalypse should have been a time of healing for Dean, but thinking back stirred up memories that felt like sharp pieces of glass rattling around in Castiel’s ribcage. He didn’t want it to be like that again.

“It won’t be, Cas… Dean’s not alone now,” Sam assured him and Castiel looked up from where he was studying the paper for houses which weren’t too far away from the Bunker. So far nothing had really seemed like the right place for Dean. But maybe that was the problem; he shouldn’t be making the decision what was the right place for Dean. Sam put a cup of hot chocolate in front of Castiel and gave his shoulder a squeeze.

“I don’t even know if Dean really wants this,” Castiel confessed. “He was unhappy last time with…” He stopped and looked down at the table in shame.

“Lisa and Ben?” Sam asked and sat down on the table next to Castiel’s newspaper. Castiel gave a nod. “That’s because I forced him to do it. It was practically my dying wish and I… well… I think I just wanted something good for him, but simply assumed that a normal life was what Dean wanted. Away from me… From all angel business,” Castiel looked up, seeing Sam shrug in apology. “But I think that’s not what Dean wanted. It’s just that the thought of Dean being happy with a family was what gave me strength to do what I had to do.” Sam lifted his hand to scratch the back of his neck. “And then I ruined it for him because I went to pull him back out when I was soulless.”

“Which was my fault,” Castiel added, the shame about that fresh as when he had first realized his mistake. Sam shrugged and Castiel wondered how he could do that. Just shrug off the extra pain and grief Castiel had caused him as if it meant nothing anymore.

“We all make mistake and we deal with it. I think it’s hard trying to save the world without messing up every once and again,” Sam said gently, reaching out to give Castiel’s shoulder a squeeze. Then he slipped off the table. “I’ll be in the library trying to copy Dean’s contacts. Let me know if you need anything.” Castiel nodded and with a last encouraging smile, Sam turned away. Castiel took a tentative sip at the hot chocolate, not particularly enjoying the taste, but appreciating the heat and the feel of the liquid in his mouth.

Sam too, Castiel knew, had tried to leave hunting behind on various occasions and for various reasons. For him too it had always been an attempt at a quick and complete severance from hunting and everyone connected to it. Castiel was familiar with Sam thoughts, with the guilt he felt for his desire to pursue his own life. He wondered what Sam felt like, offering to stay in the bunker while Dean tried to remove himself from it. He would have to ask him, or maybe that was something the Winchesters had to discuss among themselves.

He put his focus back on the newspaper and after that he turned to the Ipad Dean had given him. It took him a while of typing around almost blindly but in the end he had some pages open, scrolling through them slowly. He wasn’t sure how much money they could spend. The Winchesters didn’t have a lot of cash and credit card fraud wouldn’t really help them in this situation. From his time as a human he knew how precious money was and how hard it was to come by. He had almost nothing left from his time as a sales associate. The fact that he had no money and no source of income caused his insides to squirm uncomfortably.

“What’s with the poop face, babe?” Castiel looked up and saw Dean carrying some boxes into the room. He let them all drop on the table with an exaggerated groan and then he sat down in the chair next to Cas. He pulled the mug to him, peering inside.

“You can have the rest,” Castiel said and Dean drank the last gulps of tepid chocolate.

“Ugh. Did Sam make this? What did he use? Soy milk?” Dean complained and pushed the mug far away as if offended. Castiel didn’t know but he also didn’t feel like answering. A warm palm was lifted to the back of his neck and he sighed in relief when Dean started rubbing gently. “You okay?”

“I only now realized that I don’t have enough money to buy a house.” Dean laughed at that and Castiel supposed that it was deserved. “And getting a job the first time was very hard and while Nora was kind enough to give me a good reference it will still not be easy. If I were fully angel now I would simply grab some gold or some undiscovered relic to sell.” He saw Dean roll his eyes fondly at that.

“Sam and I have some money put away and there is enough vintage crap in here and other hoards we know that we could sell if push came to shove,” Dean explained. “Besides, you know that after you had the baby you can’t just jump into work, right? Babies need constant supervision.”

“Well, I don’t sleep much so this won’t be too hard,” Castiel said and Dean wrapped his arm around Castiel’s shoulder, pulling him close until he could press a kiss to his forehead.

“Have you seen something you like?” he asked and let go of Castiel again. He still kept his hand on Castiel’s arm.

“Not yet…,” Castiel admitted, “nothing seems to be in the price range that Sam told me to look.” Dean nodded and then he turned towards his own boxes. Out of the corner of his eye Castiel saw that Dean was putting all of his fake IDs and badges into what seemed to be a hex box. He started scrolling again when Dean pondered the contents of the hex box with a slightly lost expression on his face. He heard the lid being closed and the lock click into place.

“I’m gonna put this away and then I’ll make us some sandwiches,” Dean announced. Castiel watched him leave with the boxes under his arms, feeling some vague sense of loss. He knew that Dean was giving something up that was familiar to him and even if it was for his own good, Castiel couldn’t help feeling like he was making demands on Dean he wasn’t ready for yet. He sighed, knowing that there was no point dwelling on this. He’d have to talk to Dean instead of getting weighed down by worries. He studied the pictures on the screen but nothing appealed to him. With a sigh he stood up and decided that he had to do something else for a while. He might as well join Sam in the library and check out some files. Sam glanced up from his laptop to smile at him, but otherwise he said nothing.

Castiel walked up and down the shelves until he picked something out that was labelled “dwellings”. Considering his current occupation that seemed like a fitting lecture. Maybe the Men of Letters had a safe house they could use. He went through the pages. About halfway through he noticed a picture that looked somewhat familiar.

“Found something?” Sam asked.

“I’m not sure…,” he said. The picture was aged but he recognized the house as one he had driven by on his trips to the tea house. “This house isn’t far away. Apparently it belonged to a Man of Letters who died in Abaddon’s attack. I know it’s empty… I wonder what happened to it.” Sam had left his laptop and looked over Castiel’s shoulder at the picture and the address.

“Well, how about we find out? It either belongs to us or some relative that hasn’t bothered selling it.” Castiel followed Sam to the laptop and watched him do research. “It’s going to be pretty run down though, Cas,” Sam warned him. “Not a home yet.”

Castiel smiled to himself.

“Yes, I know,” he told Sam. “It seems like a start.”

* * *

 

It was hard getting a read on Dean’s emotions now that his Grace was in such a poor state, but Castiel would hazard a guess that Dean was underwhelmed. They had driven out to check out the house that Castiel had seen. The road there had been rather decent, paved but then it ended in a dirt path and Dean had said “awesome” in that annoyed voice of his that told Castiel that it wasn’t awesome at all. It was made out of solid brick that might have been white once but was dirty grey by now. It was relatively big, two stories high. There was a lot of empty space in front of the house and a barn out back.

“A bit big for two guys and a baby,” was the first thing Dean said, then he walked up the steps. One gave way under his weight but his reflexes were good enough to not break through the wood. Castiel saw the chances of them buying this house dwindling. Dean tried the locked door but when it didn’t move he simply picked the lock. Castiel avoided the hole in the stairs and followed Dean into a mustly smelling, dark entrance hall. There was a stair leading up and a long dark corridor that ended with a double door with glass panes.

“This was a farm once,” Castiel explained even though it was pretty obvious. He followed Dean through the house. The kitchen was big and of a similar age as the one in the Bunker. Everything was old and stained, but Castiel watched Dean touch the sink, the cream colored tiles on the wall, scruff his boots against the stone floor that was marked by years of scratches and some broken tiles.

The house was old and the state of some rooms was bad but Castiel felt comfortable here. Whoever had lived in here, had loved this house. He could feel it under the dirt and dust and maybe Dean could too because he had stopped complaining about the state of things pretty quickly.

“This house has been empty and sealed for a while… After Abaddon’s raid the widow and the children left the house according to the emergency protocol the husband had left them.”

“So that guy actually told his family about his involvement with the Men of Letters?” Dean asked. “It would have been great if Grandpa Henry would have done the same,” he added with a snort. Castiel leant against the wall and looked around what could have been the master bedroom once. “And they’re selling?”

“Sam contacted the current owner, a granddaughter who has no attachment to the house. She’s happy about our interest and will give us a good price,” Castiel told Dean what he had heard from Sam.

“Hm,” Dean muttered. He walked to the window and looked out over the ample space.

“The school is 20 minutes away from here. We’d have to drive our child.”

“You’re not driving the child in your weird car. We want them to be popular,” Dean told him and Castiel walked up to Dean. Dean wrapped his arms around Castiel, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“It’s a smallish town, but according to Sam they have a popular farmer’s market he’s been to before,” Castiel explained.

“That’s of course very important information to have,” Dean commented drily and then he kissed Castiel’s hair. “I suppose we’ve squatted in places much worse than this one,” he decided after a while. “But I’m not sure if I like the idea of you having the kid in a place that’s mostly construction site.”

“Maybe we don’t have to. We could still live in the Bunker and come here to fix our house,” he suggested. “And I already looked at the job market and I think there are some things you could do.”

“You know I have no credentials. Like, at all,” Dean said, “not even a college degree.”

“But you still remember everything that Zachariah put in your mind when he made you Director of Sales and Marketing of Sandover Bridge and Iron, so I’m sure you could fake it,” Castiel replied. He had prepared for this conversation.

“You know about that?” Dean asked in surprise and then sighed. “Of course you do, I’m pretty sure there is very little you don’t know about me, especially when you were still Heaven’s pet.” Castiel looked up to glare half-heartedly at Dean.

“If your hunting network can’t set you up with a fake documents then maybe Hannah would help me once I can show myself in Heaven again,” Castiel said, “even though she doesn’t particularly like you.”

“I doubt there’s any angel up there that does like me. You’re the big exception and not even you liked me all the time,” Dean argued.

“You are a bit difficult to manage,” Castiel agreed. Dean grinned at him, then he grabbed Castiel’s hand and guided him back downstairs and out into the faint sunlight.

“It’s not going to be easy. Especially if we try to lie as little as possible to make it easier for the poor kid,” Dean said and sighed heavily, looking up at the house. Castiel knew that Dean was intimidated by the prospect of having to build something up from scratch like this and to try his hands at a normal life. “And I mean look at this place, I almost broke through the front porch!”

“Please,” was all Castiel said. Dean groaned at that.

“You know I can’t say no when you’re begging,” he complained and Castiel huffed a laugh.

“Please Dean, give it to me,” he asked and Dean rolled his eyes fondly. He put his hands on Castiel’s face and tilted his head up.

“Fine,” he agreed and kissed Castiel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! ♥


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been over a year since my last update and I'm really sorry to leave you hanging like this. :'C

The morning light was of a washed out, watery quality, the sun not quite strong enough to pierce through the fog that hovered above ground. Faintly, the light shone through the recently cleaned windows of the house, showing the rooms behind to be empty, but not the dark and abandoned kind. Castiel got out of his car and walked up the dirt path, which Dean had declared a project for later. Not much later, Dean had groused however, because there was no way that he wanted to clean his car every damn day. And cleaning the dirt out of scrapped baby knees would be hard work. A sentiment which, according to Castiel, was slightly premature considering that their child was unborn and would not be walking or crawling anywhere for a while yet. But the protective worry wrapped in annoyance still warmed Castiel.

Castiel walked up to the porch. It was fixed now. It looked mismatched at the moment, with different types of wood and in various stages of being sanded down. But Dean insisted that once it was repainted it would look nice. For Castiel even the sight of all the holes and weak parts being fixed was beautiful. The wood creaked lightly under his feet, but not in any alarming way. Castiel tried the door-knob, finding the door locked. He knew that Dean was here, as the impala was parked right next to Castiel’s car and he hadn’t come home last night. On the phone he had said that he needed to focus. Dean had actually done that with growing frequency in the last month and Castiel wasn’t sure how to act apart from giving him space. According to Sam, Dean did get like that when there were things on his mind. Not only the Mark at this point - Castiel’s growing stomach was sure to sink Dean into contemplative silences as well. But if Sam said not to worry, then Castiel tried to trust his judgement. He left Dean to “tinker and bang stuff up”.

Not hesitating for long, he pulled the spare key he possessed out of his pocket and went into the house. He let the door fall shut with a soft click, not surprised that Dean had already fixed the hinges. Castiel walked through the corridor, trying and failing to not feel like he was an uninvited guest. Dean had pulled the old peeling wallpaper down and painted sigils and wards on the bare walls. There was not a single line out of place, the warding a pleasant buzz at the back of Castiel’s head. The atmosphere of the house wasn’t bad. A little bit restless, a little bit unsettled.

When Castiel slowly poked his head into the kitchen, he wasn’t surprised to find Dean here. He was sleeping on a beat-up mattress on the floor, wrapped in a probably too thin blanket with one of his socked feet peeking out. Castiel let his eyes travel over Dean in this unguarded moment, despite the fact that Dean hated his “creepy staring” while he slept. Dean’s hair was messed up, but his face seemed relaxed. Beautiful as always. Castiel smiled and then he decided that this had been enough appreciating staring. The kitchen looked nice, all the work Dean had put in it obvious. The fridge was humming lightly. It was clean in here too. The windows were free of grime, the appliances were shining faintly. The kitchen wasn’t a construction site, like the rest of the house. There was take-out on the table and a laptop. Clearly, this room was Dean’s chosen base of operation.

Castiel decided against waking Dean up with a freshly brewed cup of coffee, because he didn’t want to mess with Dean’s neatly arranged kitchen without getting his permission. So he resorted to kneeling down next to the mattress and gently put a hand on Dean’s shoulder.

“Dean,” he said and the man in question grunted once Castiel gave his shoulder a light shake. He shuffled around a bit, trying to burrow in his blanket after his body apparently noticed that it was a bit too cool in this room. But in the end the hold of sleep was only light and Dean half-heartedly turned on his side and squinted up at Castiel.

“Cas…?” Castiel took away his hand to let Dean sit up. “What’re you doing here?” He wiped the back of his hand across his face, blinking into the light coming through the kitchen windows.

“You didn’t come home last night. I wanted to check up on you,” Castiel told him and watched as Dean scratched his hair, messing it up some more. He didn’t meet Castiel’s eyes. He didn’t get the feeling that he wasn’t welcome here, but Dean seemed to still feel a bit of apprehension at his presence.

“I’m fine,” Dean grumbles, then he got up on his feet with a groan. He shuffled out of the room to lock himself into the small bathroom. Castiel wasn’t entirely sure what it was about his presence here that made Dean feel uncomfortable. Dean’s frequent running away to work on the house usually came with a “you stay home, Cas, put your feet up”. Construction sites were no place for 7 months pregnant people, even if they were angels, so his line of argument.

Of course Castiel had tried to tell him that this was nonsense and that he would be fine (better, actually, if he was allowed to be near the man he loved and wanted to protect) but Dean had been stubborn and didn’t let himself be swayed. It was frustrating.

Castiel could hear water being flushed and after a short wait Dean finally showed himself in the kitchen again. His face was still slightly wet and he hadn’t bothered to shave, but his hair was washed and combed. He stood in the doorway, radiating unease, but then he fidgeted with his fingers before he pointed towards the coffee pot.

“Right.”

“Dean,” Castiel said when Dean had put the pot on.

“Cas,” was the flat reply. With some effort Castiel got up from the floor and walked over to the table.

“I know that you’re uneasy with me being here but I’m not sure why.” Dean looked like he geared himself up for denial; his shoulders tensed and he grabbed the counter in a white-knuckled grip. But after some seconds passed, he relented. He let go of the counter and drummed his fist on it a couple of times, following no discernable rhythm. Then he sighed and dragged his fingers through his wet hair.

“It’s not like I don’t want you around Cas. I love having you around –“

“Thank you, Dean,” Castiel said with feeling and Dean stumbled over his next words, blushing slightly.

“The thing is… I don’t really…” He searched for words, biting his lips. He lifted his open hand to his chest, turning it at the wrist so the fingers pointed towards him. “I feel raw in here,” he finally confessed. “Like I’m stripping this house bare to its skeleton and building it back up. And it’s like the same is happening to me.” He sunk back into silence, looking at his feet. After a moment he lifted his head to look at Castiel, an almost shy expression on his face. Castiel wasn’t entirely surprised by what Dean had just told him. It made sense that Dean was protective of his more vulnerable emotions and of this rawness. It wasn’t something Dean readily shared with anyone. And it was also not entirely surprising that Dean wanted to go through this process alone, without anyone influencing what he dismantled, discarded and what he kept and rebuilt.

“Do you feel any different?” Castiel asked instead of pushing him to elaborate on this sentiment of rawness.

“No.” Dean heaved a sigh and took the coffee pot to pour himself a cup so he had something to keep his hands busy with.

“I’m usually just angry and glad to be able to trash things. Which I should probably be worried about. But it’s also nice.” Castiel inclined his head in question. “To be able to see that there was progress at the end of the day,” Dean explained. “Even if I’m just demolishing stuff.”

“And that’s good?” Dean’s mouth gave a twitch. Whether he was annoyed or amused wasn’t clear to Castiel.

“How about you use your laser eyes and look inside? Do I seem demonic?” he challenged.

“Your mood is downright beastly,” Castiel retorted blandly. That made Dean laugh, the tension easing out of his shoulders and his posture slumping slightly. He put the cup of coffee to his mouth, giving an amused smile and a shrug before he drank some. Castiel remembered the bag he had brought with him. He pulled a container out of it and put it on the table in front of him.

“I brought you something,” Castiel said and Dean sat down at the table, taking the fork and looking into the breakfast of scrambled eggs, vegetables and toast. “Sam made you breakfast. He said that it’s possible that you haven’t bought groceries yet.”

“Well, that explains why it tastes like cardboard,” Dean joked and poked around the slightly charred vegetables on the side. It didn’t look all that appetizing, that was true, but Sam insisted that it had a good nutritional value to get Dean through the morning. Dean ate in silence but it was nice to just be in his presence, a sentiment Castiel hoped Dean shared.

When Dean was done eating he cleaned after himself and then started fidgeting. He wanted to get to working. It was time for Castiel to leave. He got out his chair and left the kitchen. He caught a look of relief on Dean’s face before he left and tried not to be disheartened by it. Dean followed him to the door and opened it for him, letting in a breeze of cool air. He put his hand in the small of Castiel’s back and Castiel relished the warm touch. He turned away from the outside and looked up at Dean. There was just enough space between them as his growing belly needed. Dean gave a light chuckle when he bumped into Castiel’s stomach. He reached up and gave its sides a light squeeze before he started rubbing it gently over the fabric of Castiel’s stretched shirt.

“When are you coming back to the bunker?” Castiel asked. “I miss you.”

“Soon,” Dean promised, but he said it the same way as he said “I’m fine” when he clearly wasn’t. Castiel sighed. “I’ll need to have a specialist over to look at the structure of the house,” Dean continued quickly and took one hand away from Castiel’s stomach to tilt up his chin. “I think this house is solid. Nothing to worry about, but I don’t want the attic to fall on top of my head.” He looked down at Castiel, his expression gentle. “Once that’s done I’ll come back. I promise,” Dean whispered and leant down to brush a kiss on Castiel’s lips.

“Alright,” Castiel sighed against Dean’s lips, in-between slow, lingering kisses. He wanted to stay here, with Dean, but in the end he disentangled himself with some reluctance. “I’ll wait.”

“Thanks, Cas,” Dean said, his voice sounding rough and he had to swallow once or twice before he showed Castiel his usual grin. Castiel tried to mimic the smile and then he gave him an awkward little wave before walking down the porch and to his car. Dean was still standing inside the doorframe, watching Castiel go.

* * *

 

Castiel dutifully reported on Dean’s well-being and if Sam was put off by Dean’s lack of appreciation for his cooking, then he didn’t show it. Castiel spent the next week making the morning drive to bring him breakfast, clean clothes and other things he might need. But he never stayed longer than half an hour.

“So how’s the husband?” Sam asked when Castiel came into the library after one of these trips. Castiel sighed and let himself fall into one of the chairs, wincing slightly at how hard the wood felt under him. He really was becoming a creature that craved comfort, even when it was a cushion between his butt and the chair. He fidgeted a while before he turned to Sam.

“Unchanged,” Castiel said and then he reached over the table to grab a book. “And still not my husband.”

“Yeah, we’ll see about that,” Sam said, his thoughts clearly somewhere else. “I’m actually working on some fake documents right now.”

“I thought you had enough of those?” Castiel wondered and pulled a fake FBI badge towards him.

“You’ve got to change them frequently or else people will get suspicious. With covers for hunting you’ve got to be quick to change your aliases. Well, if one’s human and could get arrested. I suppose you could just mind-whammy them to get yourself out of a pinch.” Castiel nodded at that, wondering if it was unwise to hang on to the badge Dean had made him all those years ago. He couldn’t just throw it away. It had sentimental value at this point. When Castiel looked up from Sam’s badge, he found himself the subject of Sam’s study.

“What is it?” Castiel wondered if Sam had guessed his attachment to his old fake badge.

“I just wondered about your identity,” Sam asked and Castiel was momentarily relieved. “Do you have some fake ID?” Castiel lowered his head. “You were human for a long while, surely you must have gotten some ID. Didn’t you work at a gas station?”

“I did… But who I was then… Steve,” Castiel added and didn’t quite know what to think when Sam pulled a face. “It was a lie. Or a cover, as you said.” He shook his head. “I don’t want to be Steve anymore. And I also can’t be Jimmy Novak.”

“I get that…” Sam said sympathetically. Castiel watched him flex his fingers over his laptop, looking at Castiel, but in the end he seemed to come to a decision. “Let’s make you some documents.” Before Castiel could ask, Sam pulled his laptop and his chair closer to Castiel so that he could see the screen. Sam was opening a template for ID documents and then shot Castiel an encouraging grin.

“So you want to be Castiel? It’s not really a common name, but that doesn’t mean you’ve got to change it.”

“The only other name I’ve ever had was Emmanuel.”

“Emm… what?” Sam asked in confusion and Castiel shook his head. “Castiel then. Not the weirdest name I’ve seen after all.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” Castiel muttered and Sam had to laugh. Sam hesitated when it came to the field that read last name. He started typing Novak and Castiel tensed, but once Sam was past the v he seemed to change his mind, deleted it and typed something else.

Winchester.

“Sam…”

“Feels right, doesn’t it?” Sam asked before Castiel could think of some protest why he couldn’t ask for something this big. He was momentarily lost for an answer but he did nod.

“But would Dean like this…?”

“Dude, just trust me on this. You’ll get a marriage proposal eventually, if not then we’ll just fake one and stick it into Dean’s breakfast delivery. You’ll end up being a Winchester one way or another. We’re just speeding the process up a bit,” Sam assured him and Castiel allowed himself a small smile.

“Thank you, Sam,” he said, a warm feeling spreading in his chest. He was happier about this than he would have guessed. It was just a name after all. But it was significant.

“What about the kid though?”

“Clearly it will be a Winchester,” he said with certainty and Sam had to laugh.

“Poor guy. The name doesn’t really bring any good luck. Maybe we should find a good witch to bless him. Or her.” Since Castiel knew that Sam was most likely joking, he didn’t protest. “We should probably put together a birth certificate for your kid too. Or at least figure out what we’ll put on it.”

Dean choose this moment to wander into the Bunker.

“Hey guys,” he said and Sam looked up with a surprised smile.

“Look who’s back and just in time!” Sam said and Dean lifted an eyebrow.

“Don’t tell me you’ve made a mess in the kitchen that you need me to clean,” Dean warned, but it was without heat. He put his duffle bag on the table and then he walked towards Cas to give him a kiss. Castiel smiled up at him, too happy with his return to find much to say. “What are you two doing?”

“Sam was making fake documents. We’ve made one for me and just started talking about the child.”

“Not even born, and it’s already getting fake stuff,” Dean snorted but he pulled a chair close, forcing Sam to make space next to Cas. Sam shot Dean an annoyed look, but then he relinquished the laptop to Dean.

“I assume you’re up to fatherhood by now,” Sam said and Castiel saw Dean tense slightly. “While you can both be the dads, it’s likely that people will ask who the birth parent is. So you’ll have to think about that.”

“Well, clearly that’s going to be Cas!” Dean said at once. “He’s the one doing all the work.”

“I might be doing all the work, but what if it will look nothing like me?” Castiel argued and Dean frowned at once. “Unless it’s a huge, bright monstrosity with wings it’s not taking after me anyway.” Castiel had of course not meant this as a joke, but that didn’t stop Dean from laughing. “This is just a vessel.”

“No, at this point this is you. You should get used to your pretty face,” Dean teased, but there was something stern in his voice too.

“But you’re human. You’ve had intercourse with many women, it’s not hard to imagine that you impregnated one that left you with a child to care for,” Castiel said and Dean winced at that.

“Nothing wrong in two consenting adults having a great time together!” he argued but Castiel ignored him.

“It makes sense that we say you’re the father and I’m your spouse who helps raise the child. In theory I’m just its mother,” Castiel argued.

“ _Just_ its mother? I’m sure the kid cares more about its mother than the guy who didn’t use a condom when fucking his-“

“Okay! _Alright_!” Sam interrupted loudly, both of his hands lifted, almost as if he wanted to be prepared to put them both over his ears. “You both have issues and you both feel like you don’t deserve this title. We get it.” Dean glared at his brother.

“You could always say that you used a surrogate. You don’t know whose sperm fertilized the egg, so you don’t have to worry about who the kid takes after.” Castiel considered this. “And you also don’t have to invent some cheesy plot. Like Dean’s tragically dead wife for example. Or a one-night stand gone wrong.”

“Why does it have to be me who gets the tragic past? Other than me, Cas actually was married once!”

“I wasn’t married,” Castiel argued, ignoring Sam’s confused expression. “But I do think Sam’s idea is worth considering.”

“Good, thanks Cas,” Sam said, trying and failing to not sound exasperated that this has turned into an argument thanks to Dean’s whining. Castiel felt he was reasonable about his concerns after all. “We could say that Castiel has a sister who did the surrogacy for them.” Castiel couldn’t help trying to imagine one of his sisters in his shoes. He supposes that the child wouldn’t have lived longer than it took them to realize it was there. A bad thought. He rubbed his stomach.

“And then we should kill the imaginary sister,” Dean suggested, to which Sam groaned.

“We are not going to kill the imaginary sister, Dean!”

“And how would you explain the absence of the aunt then?”

“Easier than you’d fake grief. You know what lies work best, Dean.”

“Many of my sisters have died,” Castiel offered, but judged by the looks Sam and Dean gave him, his contribution wasn’t helpful. Maybe they were worried about his ability to pretend to be sad. Maybe they weren’t wrong. He could be bad at lying. “Maybe Hannah could play the part?” Dean instantly tensed next to him. “Her vessel and mine bear a passing resemblance,” he offered. Dean’s frown didn’t change.

“No,” he argued, “Hannah wanted you to kill me. She made you choose between the angels’ loyalty and me. That was a dick move. I don’t like her. I don’t want her to be the mom of our kid!”

“Dean,” Sam tried to interject, his hand lifted in an attempt to calm him down.

“Cas just said he’s the mom. So why can’t Cas be the mom?” Dean argued and it sounded suspiciously like whining.

“He a man!” Sam shouted in exasperation.

“I’m an angel, not a man,” Castiel interjected but Sam just waved him off. He wasn’t even a male angel, but he doubted that this would contribute anything to the solution of the problem at hand. He did understand why Dean was against Hannah. She really hadn’t been kind to Dean. But who else was there? Castiel didn’t have many friends.

“Why can’t we shave him, put some make-up on him and take a picture? Bam! Sister!” Dean said and snapped his fingers at Castiel as if that would suddenly implement all his proposed changes.

“I… don’t know if that would look convincing,” Castiel admitted, even though he was not averse to the idea. Sam however just covered his face with his palm.

“Clearly we’re not going to make any progress on this,” he muttered. “We have time. We can decide later on if we want to kill the sister and who will pose as the sister.”

“The sister must die, Sam. It’s obvious,” Dean added just to get a rise out of his brother. Sam rolled his eyes at him. He took back the laptop and returned to Castiel’s fake ID instead.

“I hope you don’t mind,” Castiel said, when he saw that Dean caught a glimpse of the screen. He was feeling a bit hot, worried about Dean’s reaction. But Dean just smiled and winked at him.

“It fits,” he decided and that was the end of it.

Castiel was now officially (or as official as it could get with fake identification) a Winchester.

* * *

 

Castiel had been hopeful that Dean’s good-mood and the return to the Bunker were signs that things were improving. Instead of disappearing again, that night Dean came to bed with Castiel, his arms around him and heated kisses pressed to the back of his neck. But there was something in Dean, a small tremor that put just the tiniest seed of worry inside of Castiel. But Dean kissed it away and even though he spent a great deal of time still at the house, preferring the mattress there to Castiel’s company, Castiel put his mind to rest.

Until he woke up from a light slumber to find Dean trashing next to him. Alarmed, Castiel sat up, observing Dean’s face, contorted in fear and pain. His hands were gripping the blanket tightly and he was moving his head from side to side. Not willing to subject Dean to his nightmare any longer, Castiel put his hand on Dean’s chest, trying to wake him up. Castiel wasn’t prepared for Dean’s reaction and neither for the speed and force with which he slammed his elbow into Castiel’s face. Stunned, Castiel let go of Dean. Dean woke up at once, horrified when he saw blood trickle down Castiel’s face.

“Oh god,” Dean gasped but instead of checking Castiel’s injuries he threw back the blankets and dashed to the wash basin. Castiel saw him shake and gag.

“Are you okay?” he asked, wiping the blood away that flew into his mouth. Dean spit into the wash basin and then turned the knobs to let the cold water run. He splashed it into his face and rinsed his mouth before he took a washcloth and wet it.

“It’s not so bad,” Castiel insisted when Dean gently wiped Castiel’s face, his hands steady even though his face was pale and sweaty and Castiel wished for Dean to just lie down again. “It doesn’t hurt.”

“How does this not hurt!” Dean snapped and showed Castiel the bloody towel.

“I’m an angel. I know it’s upsetting that I’m bleeding more easily now, but I’m actually more worried about your elbow than my nose,” Castiel said and Dean snorted before dabbing the towel against Castiel’s face again. The bleeding stopped quickly like Castiel predicted but Dean was harder to appease. He threw the dirty towel towards the basin but it slapped wetly against the wall and fell into the trash bin instead. “I might be changed, Dean, but I’m still an angel. I don’t bruise easily. Why do you always forget that?” Castiel asked gently and reached up to put his hands on Dean’s cheeks. He felt the rasp of stubble under his palms, longer now than what Dean tended to find comfortable. Dean averted his eyes so Castiel moved forwards a bit to be able to press his lips to Dean’s.

“Cas, I’m a mess,” Dean confessed, his voice just a hoarse whisper, almost as if he didn’t want to break the heavy silence in the room.

“No you’re not,” Castiel whispered back.

“You don’t understand, Cas… I’ve been having bad dreams for a while now. I thought if maybe I came back here to sleep with you it would… Just go away I suppose. But it didn’t. And I… I wake up with an urge to go out and kill. When I wake up I think that there must surely be blood all over my hands and if I look into a mirror I will see black eyes.” He took a quivering breath and lowered his head, away from Castiel’s searching eyes. “I’m terrified, Cas. I’m not getting better.”

Taken aback, Castiel let go of Dean’s face to sit back and study him. He could see him, as he always was, a shimmering light, so bright that it was a wonder Dean’s human skin was able to hold it in. While there was still this dark cloud swirling within him, it hadn’t spread.

“You’re not getting worse either,” he told him. “I can’t see you reverting back to demonic. You’re alright, Dean.”

“I don’t feel alright,” Dean said after a tense moment of silence.

“What do you want to do?” Castiel asked but Dean didn’t have an answer for him. So he lifted his arms and wrapped him in a hug. He felt Dean resist at first, but soon he let himself be hugged.

“I don’t think I can do anything but try to cope,” he said after a while. Castiel didn’t know what to say, so he remained quiet. Dean heaved a sigh, but then he gently pulled out of Castiel’s hug, grabbed his robe and left the room. Castiel guessed that he most likely fled to the kitchen, to sort his thoughts on his own. Maybe he should leave him be, but he wanted to be in his presence. Even if he couldn’t help, at least he wanted him to know that Castiel won’t leave him. So he decided that Dean had been alone with these worries for long enough. He followed him into the kitchen and when Dean saw him, he was clearly taken by surprise. He was standing next to the fridge, with a bottle of beer in his hand.

“I’ll keep an eye on you,” Castiel said and leant against the fridge next to Dean. “You’re not going darkside, I promise.” Dean looked at Castiel with wide eyes, but then he huffed a laugh and shook his head.

“You’ve always been the one to resolutely see things through, no matter how grim, haven’t you?”

“That’s what I’ve been made for,” Castiel said, somewhat proudly. Dean laughed and leant in to give Castiel a chaste kiss.

“Okay, Cas. Maybe we should go back to bed, you’re not wearing any socks and the floor’s cold.” Castiel nodded. They left the kitchen. Dean’s beer stood on the counter, untouched.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading and I'd love to hear what you thought! ♥


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always: I'm sorry for the long wait. ;w; I wish I could make up for it with a super long, amazing chapter, but I can't. But the chapter feature's Dean's point of view for a change! :D

Dean woke with a gasp. His entire body felt like it was on fire, smoke stuck in his lungs and billowing out of his mouth. Intense, hot pain seared into his arm, drenched him in sweat. He tried to hold his breath, to not let the darkness escape his body in all the desperate gulps of air he craved. He was on the floor in the house, on that mattress, where nobody would get hurt if he lashed out. He could breathe here, but he couldn't let the stain inside him sully the walls of this new sanctuary. This was for Castiel's child. For Cas. He was just-

Dean slowly opened his eyes and found himself looking at the ceiling of his room in the Bunker. The mattress under his back was softer and long familiar. Dean slowly turned his head to the side, panic of his nightmarish sleep slowly receding. Castiel was lying next to him, sunken into his angelic version of sleep. Or maybe it was just plain old sleep. The days where Cas' angelic nature made sleeping, eating and breathing irrelevant were long gone. Dean observed Castiel, waiting for his heart's frantic beating to slow down to something less concerning. Minutes passed, Castiel slept on and Dean finally allowed himself to relax. A part of him was even soothed by watching Castiel sleep, even though maybe it shouldn't. He remembered Sam's eyes all those years ago when Castiel lost more and more of the qualities that made him inhuman. Sam had felt guilty about it back then, or as guilty as he could be considering that the circumstances left them very little room and energy for compassion. Dean had his fair share of guilt to carry when it got to Cas, but humanity creeping up on Cas? That wasn't one of them. Some part of Dean was even glad for it; for Cas sitting down to breakfast with him, for Cas taking small naps, for him to take off his coat every now and then, for him to fidget with his socked feet when his toes got cold on the Bunker's floor. Those were good things. Small indignities maybe for a creature like Cas, but they were human.

So Dean took this private moment to study this weird, weird creature. Dean rarely woke up entangled with Cas as Cas wasn't really the clingy type. He remembered early on in their relationship when Castiel had been stiff as a board, even just after sex. That had always been like a cold, sobering shower after mind-blowing ecstasy. It was much better now, even though Cas still wasn't much of a cuddler even though he reacted positively to every bit of affection Dean gave him. He was now facing away from Dean and while Dean had managed to kick off the blanket during sleep, Castiel was still neatly covered. Like this Dean would have never guessed that Castiel was pregnant. He knew it was there, steadily growing. There wasn't much time left before the baby would be born. He had to trust that Cas would let him know what he needed.

Dean felt himself tense up involuntarily as he thought about the end of Castiel's pregnancy. Right now things were okay. Or as far okay as they could be with the mark sending feverish thoughts and urges through his body. As long as the baby stayed in there, things were okay. But as soon as it was time to get it out?

Dean knew what it was like to find the one good thing in a pile of shitty circumstances and he couldn't fault Cas his hope that everything would be fine. But the freaking Father of Murder was hardly a reliable source when it got to childbearing. As much as Castiel trusted Cain's judgment, Dean couldn't. And he knew the expression on Castiel's face, when he had told Dean not to worry about him, but instead focus on recovery. It was the face of someone who gladly swiped all their pressing issues under a rug, just because there appeared to be more pressing  matters. Castiel running on stolen Grace back before everything went to shit had been evident of that. Of course Castiel would prioritize the Mark of Cain over his own survival. Of course he would put Dean's safety over-

Dean felt the panic crash down on him and he tried to force it down, tried to rein in the misdirected anger. He covered the mark with his palm, but it never changed anything. Dean kicked the blankets off entirely and got up. The shifting off the mattress caused Castiel to stir lightly. Dean left before Castiel awoke properly, his bare feet making soft shuffling noises on the cold floor. He flicked on the light in the kitchen and braced himself against the counter, trying to breathe.

The kitchen was quiet apart from the low hum of electricity. Often Dean was able to enjoy the silence of the Bunker, the space and the timelessness of it all. But now he felt out of place. Like he was trying to play his part in this show that had long fallen apart around them all. Dean dug his thumb into the raised lines of the Mark, trying to subdue the heat that started to spread and the wrongness of it all. He could feel Castiel approaching before he heard him.

"It's like back then, Cas," he said when Castiel stepped down into the kitchen, coming to stand next to Dean. Castiel let Dean gather his thoughts instead of asking him anything. "When you were gone and Sam was gone and I tried to live with..." Dean rubbed his fingers across the mark. It still hurt to think about Lisa and Ben. When he looked at Castiel he saw pain flicker over his face. Castiel understood guilt better than most other people did. It gave Dean the strength to continue: "With Lisa and Ben I tried to live a normal life. I didn't _want_ to. Hell, I wanted nothing more than to plunge myself into the Cage too and just be done with it all. But I couldn’t. Lisa and Ben they were like anchors. And guilt was an anchor. Sam had wanted this for me. He wanted to give me a chance at a family, something wonderful and normal. Normal, Cas!" Dean banged his fist on the counter, almost enjoying the sharp pain that shot through his arm.

"You deserved it," Castiel said gently. "Nobody deserved freedom and peace more than you." Dean squeezed his eyes shut, feeling a heavy weight settle across his chest. The Mark flared, pushing anger through Dean.

"No!" he snapped and drew in a sharp breath, holding it and waiting for the anger to abate. "I didn't want it, not like that. And I couldn't shake the wrongness. I was a mess and I was… wrong. I was playing a role, always lying and always faking it." He shook his head. "And it came to bite me in the ass." He felt Castiel shift, his arms wrapping firmly around Dean.

"It didn't go wrong because of you," he told him, his voice sounding rough. "The circumstances weren't right and I was the one who ruined it. I tried to keep you out of the war in Heaven."

"Cas…" Dean didn't want to talk about it, because it still hurt in some locked away part in his core.

"I truly thought that what you had with Lisa and Ben, a life away from the worries of hunting and away from the meddling of Heaven, was what was best for you. But I never even asked what you wanted, but decided for you instead." Castiel lowered his arms until he could squeeze Dean's hand. Dean finally lifted his head and looked at Castiel. "I don't want to make the same mistake again. I don't want to ruin it again. If we're deciding for you against your will-"

"Cas, I can't," Dean told him, his voice barely above a whisper and Castiel's expression shifted from earnest to worried. "I don't feel like anything I'm doing is helping me get better. All the things you and Sam and freaking Cain say I should do, they don't change a thing. A big part of me wants to throw it all away and run. Just give in and do what the Mark wants."

"Did you want to stay a demon?" Dean shook his head.

"No. Fuck, Cas, it hurt to be a demon," he said and stared down at the red mark. He remembered how it felt and that it hadn't been easy and carefree. That he chased fleeting fun to cover the fact that he ached so much. "Some things were easier, to just let my rage consume me. But there was too much conflict in me. I was still… me somehow. A bad version of me, but still me."

"You were kind to me," Castiel told him quietly. Dean felt Castiel's palm on his cheek and Dean followed the gentle motion of his hand until they were looking at each other and Castiel could kiss him. Gently. Far too gently.

"I was cruel," Dean whispered against his lips. Castiel withdrew enough to shake his head. "I just want to be myself again," he confessed. "I know that it isn't possible. I'll always have to be someone else." Castiel was silent, letting Dean feel the weight and ache of his confession.

"I'm sorry," Castiel said after a long while. "Maybe once we have found a cure for you, you will have a choice." Dean turned away. He had to busy himself with something. These quiet heart to hearts where exhausting. He made himself a coffee. He carried his cup to the table and let himself fall heavily onto the chair. He was tired of this. Castiel crossed the kitchen and sat down too, slowly and mindful of his belly. Dean watched him straighten his shirt over his stomach.

"What if there is no cure? What if it takes decades or centuries to find something to get rid of the mark? Who will then still be here?" Dean wanted to know. "Sam might be gone. Our kid might be grown up and long buried. Even you might be gone. And there will be nothing for me." He looked away from Castiel's sad and pitying expression. He lifted his cup to his mouth and took a sip of the bitter liquid. "There'll be no more need for me then."

"Dean. I will not leave you."

"If you're gonna be mortal and I'm not then you're not gonna have a choice in the matter," Dean said, harsher than he had intended his words to come out. He winced at the words, an apology on the tip of his tongue, but Castiel merely shrugged. How the hell could that guy shrug that off?

"I'm not meant to be mortal. Even after Metatron made me human it didn't stick," he said. "I sucked in another angel's Grace and while it didn't restore me properly, it gave me back some of what Metatron stole." Castiel lowered his eyes to glare at Dean. "I'll live as long as you need me to." Dean wasn't sure why that sounded so threatening. Dean closed his eyes, huffing.

"We both suck."

"We do what we must," Castiel amended and Dean heaved a sigh. Despite the less than uplifting conversation, Dean couldn't help feeling like some of the darkness that had lingered all around him had withdrawn. The Mark was still there, still making itself known, but it was weaker, now that Cas was here. Castiel never seemed to have a problem with the silences between them, content to watch Dean, smiling when Dean dared to look up from his cup.

"What are you gonna do?" Castiel asked when Dean got up to rinse out his cup. Here in the Bunker it was hard to say how much time passed, but a quick look at his watch let Dean know that it was early morning now. Soon Sam would get up. Dean rubbed his face, trying to chase away his exhaustion. He wasn't tired even though he could hardly get any sleep at night. But he was weary.

"I suppose I'll have to try to find a job," he finally said and Castiel lifted his eyebrows in question. "I still have a lot to do around the house, but we can't build a life for the kid on credit card scams." Castiel opened his mouth, maybe to protest, but Dean shook his head at him. "Seriously Cas. Living like this isn't fun. Sam and I only do it because we never had much of a choice. I don't want the kid to go through the same crap I went through."

"I understand. But I want to do my part too," Castiel insisted and Dean frowned at him. "Later," Castiel amended. "I have experience now and I am better at lying." Dean laughed because Castiel had said it with no small amount of pride. Seriously, they really were a mess. "You can be a stay at home father if you want."

"I don't think I'm house husband material," Dean said with a laugh to which Castiel shrugged.

"But what kind of work will you do?" Dean leant back against the counter, crossing his arms over his chest.

"I've been thinking about what you said a while ago… That I still have my knowledge and skills from Zachariah's little mind game. I think my memory's far too outdated now because marketing strategies are changing all the time, but I killed it when it got to socializing. Maybe someone of my old buddies remember me and won't mind too much that I totally dropped off the radar for…" Dean looked down at his fingers, counting the years. "Six years. Damn!" He exclaimed. Castiel looked at him with an amused if not slightly confused expression. "That was a lifetime ago. I can't believe that creepy angels wanting to boss me around were my biggest problem back then."

"We did have different problems back then, though angels continued to be the source of many of your problems," Castiel said with a smile and Dean had to laugh.

"Yeah, you're the only one I can stand," he said and lifted his arms. Castiel didn't need further prompting; he rose from the table and stepped into Dean's embrace. Dean felt at ease when he could wrap his arms around Castiel, swaying him softly. He kissed Castiel's hair, enjoying the feeling of Castiel's arms wrapping around his waist. The baby bump was easy enough to feel. Dean gave a start when the baby apparently kicked hard enough for even Dean to feel it. Castiel winced at the kick. "Woah, I think the little one wants me to go away!"

"It has been doing this for a while now," Castiel complained and stepped back slightly, staring down at his stomach. Dean lifted his hands to Castiel's cheeks. Castiel sighed deeply, his eyes closing.

"You seem tired. Maybe you should go back to bed." Castiel only grumbled, so Dean kissed him on the lips. "Go on!" Reluctantly Castiel opened his eyes.

"Will you go to the house?"

"Yeah," Dean said, "but I'll be back later tonight. I promise." That seemed good enough for Cas, because he nodded, then he turned around and left the kitchen. Dean rolled his eyes at him, but he felt fondness still warm his chest. At least this made him able to ignore the Mark's insistent burn just a while longer.

* * *

Dean was sitting in his kitchen after having spent almost all day trying to fix the stairs leading down to the cellar. He was cranky and had more than one splinter still to dig out of his fingers. But the stairs were secure so that was at least something. He enjoyed having something to focus his anger and frustrations on, but trying to cool down again wasn't all that easy. It wasn't like the Mark was pleased by him demolishing a stair and some dry wall. Its hunger for blood didn't abate and with physical exhaustion setting in after a day of working, he felt… brittle somehow. Like there wasn't a lot of resistance left inside him. But he did get calmer once he stepped into the kitchen. His mattress on the floor was there, looking inviting despite the fact that sleeping with Cas' arms wrapped around him was much better. Here he could relax a bit, regain his bearings.

On the table in front of him was his laptop, his phone and a notebook. He didn't feel like talking to anyone right now, but the browser was open on the LinkedIn profile of a certain Tom Brugger, Junior VP, Eastern Great Lake Divison of Sandover Bridge & Iron. Dean vaguely remembered what Zachariah had once promised him. Senior VP in 8 to 10 short years. Dean also remembered Tom, having an office in the same corridor, one of the people Dean was the boss off. Someone who might have gotten Dean Smith's position too if he had had more drive. And wore better clothes. Dean still felt offended by the ugly ties he had worn.

"What the hell, Dean," he muttered to himself because who cared about those monkey suits? Dean shook his head and then he dialed Brugger's number.

_"Sandover Bridge & Iron, Brugger speaking_." The man sounded bored. Tom had always hated taking business calls that didn't involve chatting about the master cleanse and other such fads that Dean Smith had been crazy about. Dean felt embarrassment flare up just thinking about it.

"Hey, BT. I saw you got a promotion or five," he started and there was silence at the other end of the connection for only a couple of seconds.

_"I can't believe it! Dean? Dean Smith? Is that you?"_ Dean leant back in his chair, trying to relax and remember who he had been back then.

"Guilty as charged," he said with a grin and heard Tom laugh into the phone. "But really, congratulations on the promotion."

_"Thanks man. I can't believe that I have you on the phone! How long has it been? Five years? Six? It really sucked without you man."_

"Yes, I'm sorry for the head over heels departure," Dean said, though he didn't remember what had happened after Zachariah returned his memories. He had simply zapped him back into the impala. Anything could have been said to his co-workers. There might have also been a chance that Zachariah had erased their memories. Dean was glad that this wasn't the case.

_"No no, I get it. Those were freaky days. With all those suicides. You weren't the only one who reconsidered working at Sandover. Some other people quit too,"_ Tom told him with a big sigh.

"Yeah… But you staid," Dean said and heart Tom hum his assent. "Not slacking off on the dieting I hope?" Here Tom laughed.

_"This job eats my soul, so I decided that I need the occasional cheeseburger to stay sane,"_ he replied and Dean nodded at that.

"I'm the same. Getting more workout though than before, so I suppose that's okay," Dean said.

_"What have you been up to then? The speculations after your departure were wild,"_ Tom said with a laugh. _"Some say that you eloped with that guy from IT who quit on the same day you did."_ Dean frowned at that.

"Sam? No! We did stay in touch though. It seems that we bonded over the… freaky experience back then," Dean lied. "But the experience then and some stuff Adler said... I don't know. I felt I needed to do something else with my life for a while. So I packed all my things and just left. Lived everywhere, did all kinds of things. Met many interesting people."

_"Dear god, Smith. You sound like one of those hipsters,"_ Tom laughed and Dean shrugged.

"I had hoped you would say something like modern day cowboys but I guess there's not enough gun swinging and bar fighting involved to make that metaphor work," Dean joked, even though Dean saw plenty of both. "Though I really needed it. Had some family tragedies. I lost pretty much everyone and I was just done, man." Dean felt real weariness even though he was trying to spin a sob story for Tom. Dean Smith, son of Bob and Ellen, brother of Jo. They were all dead, he didn't even have to lie about that.

_"I'm sorry to hear that,"_ Tom told him, _"but you're back on your feet now? That's why you're calling?"_ Dean was glad to cut to the chase now.

"Yes. It's been so long that I lost pretty much my entire network. I don't want to be weird, man, but maybe you know someone who's hiring?"

_"Of course Dean! I'll ask around. I remember how dedicated and hardworking you were. And just an all about good man."_ He did sound genuine enough about that.

"I really appreciate it, BT. I moved to Kansas though," Dean said, doodling in the margins of his notebook.

_"What in the devil's name do you want in Kansas?"_

"I had family here. Inherited an old house I'm renovating. And I've got a kid on the way, so no more fooling around for me!"

_"No way!"_ Tom shouted. Dean shrugged with a grin. _"So you're putting down roots. I see how it is! Tell you what. I'll keep my ears open. Can I call you back?"_

"Absolutely. Thanks man," Dean said. They said their good byes after Tom repeated how unbelievable it was to hear from Dean again. Dean threw his phone on the table once the call finally terminated. He groaned and leant back in his chair. That had sucked. There was no guarantee that anything would come out of it and Dean really didn't want to be stuck behind a desk for hours, but he needed a well-paid job. It had been easy to slip back into this Dean Smith persona and to fake it. Just another layer of wrongness heaped on top of him. He felt the desire to feel something break under his palms. He stared at the wall for what felt like hours until his breathing had calmed down again. Then he grabbed his keys. He had to get home to Sam and Cas.

* * *

The house came along. Slowly, even slower than before, now that Dean had pretty much destroyed everything that could be destroyed. He had to build now. Step by step. But the house grew and Castiel's belly grew and the restlessness within Dean did too.

Tom had sent him a couple of text messages after their first phone call and they had also exchanged mails. Sam had helped Dean put together some documents (fake, all of them, with the contacts leading to hunter friends who were willing to lie for Dean) and Tom promised to send it along.

"I almost forgot that Sandover thing," Sam had exclaimed and Dean had been mortally embarrassed. "You looked good in suspenders and eating nothing but salad."

"You're just jealous that I was the one with the Stanford degree," was all Dean had been able to say back, but of course Sam had changed tracks quickly from teasing to supportive.

"So you really want some office job?" Sam asked, when they had take away spread out on the floor in what would become the dining room. Right now it was still bare, a sad looking lightbulb hanging from the ceiling was the only thing in here.

"I've got to fill this empty house with furniture somehow," Dean said and took a bite of his pizza. "I don't have to be happy about it." Sam looked like he wanted to protest, but Castiel spoke up, his mouth full.

"When I was working as a sales associate I imagined what I would first buy when I was able to afford a home." He swallowed and reached for another piece of pizza. "Of course I never made it as far as having enough money for a home."

"You lived in motels?" Sam asked.

"No. I slept in the backroom of the gas station. I had a sleeping bag," Castiel said and Dean winced internally. "The floor wasn't comfortable."

"We'll get you the best mattress ever," Dean promised before Sam could find words to put to his shocked expression. Castiel smiled at Dean.

"I like your bed in the Bunker," Castiel told him. "It's sturdy too. I worried about the structural integrity of some motel beds that we had sex in."

"GUYS!" Sam shouted in protest and Dean burst out laughing. Castiel smiled at Dean and Dean winked at him in return.

That Sam and Castiel spent more time in this house made a big difference. With his family around him it felt like Dean was actually building something for the future, instead of just using the house as a coping mechanism (of questionable efficiency).

"Maybe we should put on the tea kettle," Castiel said once their conversations had cooled down slightly and the pizza was mostly eaten.

"Hm?" Dean asked but there was the soft sound of hinges creaking coming from the kitchen. Dean looked over his shoulder to the open door that connected the dining room to the kitchen. It seemed like the door had opened. "I've got to fix that. It doesn't latch properly," he said and got up from the floor. He went into the kitchen, but the door was closed. Dean's smile slipped and he felt a shiver go down his spine and a dark feeling spread inside his chest.

"It's been a while." Dean turned toward the smooth voice.

The father of murder was standing in his kitchen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! ♥


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